


One Fine Day

by Tomboy13



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Bisexual Samantha "Sam" Arias, Butch Lena Luthor, Eventual Smut, F/F, Getting By With Help From Their Friends, Homophobia, Jealous Kara Danvers, Jealous Lena Luthor, Minor Violence, Mon-El is a douche in later chapters, Mutual Pining, Protective Kara Danvers, Protective Lena Luthor, Protective Lesbians All Over The Place, Sanvers - Freeform, Slow Burn, SuperCorp, Transphobia, some fluffy bits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 67,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21778138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomboy13/pseuds/Tomboy13
Summary: It’s 1963, and Lena Luthor runs a thriving lesbian bar in downtown National City. All she wants is a quiet life, and to keep the cops and the mob away from her business and away from her clientele. Enter a questioning blonde that Lena can’t get out of her head, and an estranged brother with murderous aspirations.
Relationships: Alex Danvers & Kara Danvers, Alex Danvers/Maggie Sawyer, Background Querl Dox/Nia Nal, Brief Kara/Mon-El, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, Samantha Arias/James Olsen
Comments: 197
Kudos: 487





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This sits separate from my other butch Lena stories; full disclosure, I wasn’t around in 1963, and I’m going to try and keep this light, so for all anachronisms and era-unrealistic niceties, I apologise.

The bar was busy, the sound of the jukebox in the corner cutting through the habitual smoke of a dozen cigarettes. It was familiar, comforting even, and though it was still early, the first couples were already taking to the large raised dance floor. Lena Luthor watched them with mild interest and a shadow of jealousy. She was 28 years old, but felt older - more jaded - less hopeful; she’d been sitting in this bar every Saturday night for what felt like a millennia, watching the couples come together, sway as one, and then break apart, while she sat alone on the sidelines. “Always the bridesmaid.” She muttered, turning back to the bar.

“Well, don’t you look cheerful?” The tender said teasingly, draping her arms casually across the taps and raising a manicured eyebrow.

Lena sighed, stubbed out her cigarette, and took a long drink from her glass before answering in a sing-song voice. “I pay you to tend the bar, Sam, not act as my therapist.”

Sam laughed, and Lena couldn’t fight a smile in response. The woman was a little older than Lena herself, with long brown hair and an easy smile. They’d been at college together, and had both been dropped by their families around the same time - Lena for her reluctance to give up her lifestyle, as her mother disparagingly called it, and Sam for the baby that had been growing in her belly. They’d helped each other stay afloat through those difficult first months before Lena had found and purchased the failing bar near the docks, and Sam had given birth to a black-eyed baby girl with medical care that Lena had, somehow, found the money for. She’d started working at The Angel before the child was even off the breast, and they were more like sisters now than mere friends or co-workers.

“You pay me to keep this place running, and if you’re sat there scaring away all our customers I’m going to tell you about it.”

“Well then,” Lena said, theatrically straightening her neck tie and smoothing out her short black hair, “if you pour me another glass of this delicious beverage, I shall retire to some dark corner where I won’t dampen the mood.”

“Brat.” Sam said, reaching behind her for the whiskey bottle. 

“Love you too, sweetheart.” Lena winked, before pushing away from the bar and into the gloom of the pub. Her favourite spot was, as ever, free. No matter how busy it got, the last booth on the right was always left for her. It was next to a door that read ‘Staff Only’, but Lena had always preferred to be in the midst of the action rather than cooped up in an office, and the regulars respected that. Consequently, most nights found her ensconced in the booth, often surrounded by paperwork, watching over her domain like a shepherd watches over their flock. Or maybe, given her usually swift and very final treatment of troublemakers, the way a lion watches over its pride.

Settling into the worn red leather, Lena took another sip of her booze and pulled a crumpled paperback from her jacket pocket. When she’d brought the premises almost 8 years earlier, as a hopeful investment, it had been with the money that she’d been paid off with by her brother. She still remembered the guilt shining in his eyes as he pushed the envelope into her hand, stuffed with enough cash to make her disappear, and let the butler escort her out of the house. It was so long ago, but it still stung, not least because the last thing her brother showed anyone these days was empathy, but mainly because the price her loving family had weighed against her worth was a few dollars more than a run-down drinking hole and a fresh liquor license.

It had come as a surprise to herself as much as anyone how damn good she was at it. She’d quickly turned the place into the throbbing heart of downtown NC’s lesbian community, and the progress showed no signs of slowing. It was something to do with the way she could read people, could judge the atmosphere was changing before it even happened, and react accordingly. She snorted. Having always been the cause of atmospheric changes in her own house, it was no wonder she was so good at recognising them out in the world. It was just a shame with this new found talent that she hadn’t ever been allowed within a hundred feet of the family business, or she could have doubled their takings in 12 months.

“Buy you a refresh?” A smooth voice asked as a second glass of amber liquid was slid across the table.

Looking up, Lena narrowed her eyes. “Officer Sawyer, what can I help you with?”

The woman across from her winced, inhaling a sharp breath. She was in her mid-thirties, an attractive latina with long, wavy hair and the air of a detective about her. “Not on first name terms again? Ouch.”

Lena scoffed. “What can I say, I get tetchy when the anniversary of you slapping cuffs on my wrists comes round.”

“Lena, that was five years ago, and I was just doing my job. Have I let you down since?” The woman held her hands up. “No, I haven’t. So don’t Officer Sawyer me, it’s Maggie to you. Just...drink your drink.”

The butch woman eyed the glass, but didn’t raise it to her lips. She hadn’t been drunk in years, and had no intention of starting now. “You only hand me alcohol for two reasons: you want something or you have bad news.”

Giving up on the pleasantries, Maggie placed both hands flat on the table. “We’ve got a new Chief of Police. Donaldson. I think it’s going to cause us some problems.”

Lena nodded. “I heard.”

The policewoman leaned forward, tapping a finger on the table for emphasis. “He’s been going around, talking big words about cleaning up the city, getting back to good Christian values, all that crap. It’s pretty vague, but a few of the lower-downs have taken it to heart. They’re out to impress. Last week, they fired three detectives for taking bribes to stay away from the Flamingo on Dean Street. Raided the place the day after.”

The Luthor remained expressionless, reaching into her inner pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. She offered one to Maggie, who declined with a wave of her hand. “I know. It’s a shame. The owner was a good guy.”

Maggie nodded. “That was mafia, too. They pay better than we do.”

“I’m not getting involved with the mob, Maggie.”

Sawyer shrugged, and without a hint of irony continued, “Good; they’re almost as bad as the cops.” 

The two women sat in silence for a time, listening to the Doris Day record playing, while around them the conversation bubbled and whirled. “I’ve sorted it.” Lena said at last, exhaling smoke through her nose.

Maggie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask more questions. She’d been working with Lena Luthor for years, helping pay the right people the right price to leave The Angel alone, leveraging her privileged position as a respected police officer to her advantage. In return, she never paid for a drink at the bar, and was always given the modicum of respect from the other patrons that she often missed out on from her colleagues. 

“I’ll leave you to it then.” The woman said, getting to her feet. “I’ll be by on Thursday to pick up the usual payments?”

Lena smiled wanly, and as an after thought held up the full glass. “Sure. Thanks. Here, take this with you.”

Watching her associate walk away, Lena shook her head slightly. It was frustrating, the constant need to wheel and deal just to carve out a little piece of security for her and her kind. What they were doing wasn’t illegal; the bar and it’s mainly lesbian clientele had as much right to be there as any other venue in the city, according to the letter of the law. It was unfortunate that NCPD and its political backers didn’t view it as such. It had become a constant war of tactics to ensure the place wasn’t raided, audited, or shut down for whatever spurious violation they could think of. It was 1963, they were putting people into space and transplanting organs to save the dying, but sometimes Lena wasn’t sure that the world had ever really left the dark ages.

It was fortunate then that she had something the other struggling bar owners in the community didn’t: information. Lena had spent the first 20 years of her life moving in circles where money was so plentiful that knowledge had become the real currency. She’d amassed a great number of facts about the power houses of American society, as well as the connections to ensure she was kept abreast of the gossip and scandals of the well to do, to use as needed. Knowledge such as the fact that Colin Donaldson, NCPD’s newest Chief of Police, might spend his days waxing lyrical about family values and Christian morals, but that hadn’t stopped him from spending every Saturday night for the last 3 years visiting grubby hotel rooms with his wife and their pool boy.

Turning back to her novel, Lena sniffed. She hated using people’s innocent weaknesses against them, but if they played the game her way, she wouldn’t have to.

“I’m sorry sir, is this seat taken?”

The owner shut her book pointedly, annoyed at being distracted again, and turned to give whoever had interrupted her a tongue lashing. Green eyes locked on the intruder, the room slowed to a halt, and she promptly tripped over her own tongue.

Standing over her, smiling anxiously, was the most beautiful woman Lena Luthor had ever set eyes on. She had smooth blonde hair, held in a ponytail that would have been all the rage ten years earlier, and wore a lemon yellow sun dress that made her figure pop. She also sported glasses, behind which piercing blue eyes were widening in horror.

“I-uh-“ Lena stuttered, momentarily rendered uncharacteristically stupid. 

“I am _so_ sorry.” The woman said, her voice leaden. “I wasn’t really looking and I just caught the suit, and I assumed...this is why they say you shouldn’t assume, and I honestly, usually, I’m more in-tune with the people around me - and I-I would never want to offend anyone, especially not someone just-just-minding their own business.” The blonde paused for breath, but only briefly, nervously adjusting the glasses on her face. “I’m meant to be here to support my sister, but I’ve already managed to put my own foot in it. Kara, you dolt!”

Blinking, Lena finally found her voice. “My name’s not Kara.”

The stranger stopped short, looking puzzled. “No, I’m Kara.”

Mentally shaking herself to claw back some of her usual poise, Lena rose slightly off the seat, reaching for a handshake that went on for a fraction of a second too long. “Lena. It’s a pleasure to meet you Kara. Feel free to take a seat.”

Kara nodded politely, glancing at their still entwined hands, and slid into the opposite side of the booth.

“This is your first time in a gay bar?” Lena asked gently, pushing her book to one side to focus all her attention on the woman in front of her.

“Is it that obvious?” Kara smiled, wrinkling her nose.

Lena waved a hand dismissively. “Only to me, I suspect. And don’t worry, it wasn’t the first time someone’s mistaken me for a man, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. At least you were polite about it.” Seeing the blonde open her mouth to sympathise, Lena ploughed on. “Can I get you a drink?”

Lena couldn’t believe her eyes when the woman blushed; honest to goodness blushed. “Oh, gosh, I-“

The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted the sentence. Lena turned cold eyes onto the woman hovering awkwardly next to them, clutching two glasses of punch. She was a skinny brunette with a fashionable bob and searching eyes, and Lena had never seen her before in her life.

“Got you your drink.” The brunette said, raising the glasses in explanation while her gaze darted nervously between the two occupants of the table.

Kara smiled warmly, and Lena felt a twinge of unexplainable jealousy. “Thank you Alex.” Lena watched as her new acquaintance shuffled up, and patted the seat next to her. “You can sit here.”

“Oh yes, please, by all means, join us.” Lena said under her breath. Louder, she continued, “so, Alex, I don’t think we’ve met. Is it your first time too?”

Alex nodded, a small smile appearing on her face, and moved to respond.

“She just came out as a lesbian.” Kara blurted out, before clamping a hand over her mouth.

A connection flared in Lena’s brain. “You’re the sister.”

“Yes?” Alex said with a furrowed brow. “Wow, Kar, you sure didn’t waste much time when I was at the bar. Tell her your life story much?”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I was just making conversation.”

Lena held out her hand. “Seeing as your sister isn’t going to introduce us, I’m Lena Luthor.”

Alex spurted our her drink. “Lena _Luthor_?”

The butch narrowed her eyes, and withdrew her hand. “The one and only.”

Kara opened her handbag, passing her sister a lacy handkerchief. “As in...Lex Luthor? The politician?”

Lena clicked her tongue, and made a flippant ‘so-so’ gesture with her hand. “Aspiring politician. Businessman for now.”

An awkward silence fell on the booth. Internally, Lena cursed. She had gotten used in the small fishbowl that was the local scene to being a name in her own right; it was a stark reminder that in the wider world, people knew her only as the fanatic’s estranged sister.

“Danvers?” 

“Maggie?”

The cop stood in stunned silence next to the trio, shock written all over her features; Alex scrambled to her feet, knocking the table and causing the glasses to spill a sticky pool of punch, that spread ominously across the wood.

“What-what are you doing here?” Maggie asked.

“I-uh-What are _you_ doing here?” Alex asked defensively, shoving her hands into the pockets of her blue jeans. 

Lena smirked, enjoying seeing her usually unflappable acquaintance looking markedly flustered. “I expect you’re both doing exactly the same thing, here.”

Maggie blinked. “Sorry Lena. We work together, me and Danvers. I know you don’t like to be bothered while you’re doing business.”

“Don’t worry yourself, this isn’t business, purely pleasure.” A small thrill ran up the owner’s spine when she saw Kara duck her head, a smile on her painted lips and the pink returning to her cheeks.

“I-uh...buy you a drink?” Alex managed, sounding terrified. Maggie shrugged nonchalantly, and took a few backwards steps towards the bar, slowly so the other woman could scramble after her.

“You’ll be ok, right Kar?” The taller woman threw over her shoulder as she rushed away.

“There’s a story there.” Lena chuckled.

“I expect there is, or will be soon, if I know my sister.” Kara smiled. “So, you work in business? Or something?”

“Or something.” Lena grinned, throwing back the last of her whiskey with a devilish wink. “I run this place, mostly. What about you?”

“Oh I’m just a secretary.” Kara said, fiddling with the strap of her handbag where it rested on the table in front of her.

Lena placed a hand on top of the woman’s fidgeting fingers. “There’s no such thing as ‘just’. You do an important job, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Kara bit her lip. “Are you always this nice to strangers?”

Lena laughed. “No, not really.” 

On the jukebox, the familiar opening chorus of _Blue Velvet_ began to play. “I love this song.” Kara said fondly, smiling at the dancers filling the floor. 

“Would you like to dance?” Lena asked. Seeing Kara hesitate, the butch smiled patiently. “It’s just a dance, I’m not asking you to go steady.”

The blonde giggled. “Sure, why not? But you have to lead.”

“Not a problem, m’lady. Be good and I’ll even treat you to a proper drink. I’m very pal-ey with the gaffer.”

——————————————————————-

Outside of town, in the grand foyer of one the city’s largest estates, a very different party was winding down. It was the kind of party with expensive menus and key note speakers, where gentlemen discussed business over scotch and cigars, and their well-dressed Christian wives discussed their problems with the help.

In an oak panelled back room, by the warm light of a desk lamp, Colin Donaldson listened to the final few cars pulling down the gravel driveway, and enviously wished he was going with them. Under the collar of his starched white shirt, he was sweating.

“Colin, I’m so disappointed in you.” The man behind the desk said in a convivial voice. “I really thought you’d be more co-operative than this. I thought we shared _values_.”

“We do. Of course we do.” The Chief hissed. “But she knows...things. I can’t risk my career.”

The room’s other occupant leaned on his elbows, one eyebrow raised. “I think you’re forgetting that I gave you that career, at great personal cost I might add.”

Colin nodded frantically. He was a plump red-head in his late 30s, and had always been eager to please, for the right price. He was starting to realise that maybe the right price hadn’t been high enough, this time. “Yes, I know, and I’m grateful for that. I’ll help you anyway I can, of course I will. But please, don’t make me go after The Angel Bar. Don’t make me go after Lena Luthor.”

The other man tsked. “Because she knows things.”

“Personal things.” Colin agreed.

“You’ve been indiscrete.”

Colin closed his eyes. “I...I’ve been...indiscrete.” A hand gripped his shoulder, and the police chief opened his eyes. His boss stood over him, smiling soothingly. Somehow, that was worse than anger.

“It’s ok, Colin. You did your best. You go home now to that lovely wife of yours, and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Riding the tide of relief, the Chief scrambled for the door, not looking back as he rushed passed the secretary’s desk and rows of bookshelves, concerned only with escaping the Manor House. From the gloom, several pairs of dispassionate eyes watched him go.

In the study, the remaining occupant gave a small, disappointed sigh, and leaned over the desk to press the intercom. “Eve, please send in Gregory. Mr Donaldson has outlived his usefulness.”

“Right away, Mr Luthor.” Came the cheerful response. 

—————————-—————————————-

At The Angel, last patron wobbled out of the door, allowing Lena to finally turn the sign to ‘Closed’. Behind her, Sam turned on the house lights, scowling at the sudden glare.

“Tonight was manic.” The manager exhaled. “We need more help, Lena.”

Lena nodded, running a hand through her hair, pulling off her tie and tucking it absentmindedly into a trouser pocket. Since their last bartender had quit a week ago, Sam had been trying to run the bar and serve customers, and it was taking its toll.

“You should have said if it was too much, and I’d have helped out.”

Sam snorted. “That was the first woman I’ve seen you dance with in months, no way was I dragging you away from making goo-goo eyes to pull beers with me.”

“It was her first time. I just wanted her to feel welcome.” The Luthor said defensively, shrugging off her jacket and rolling up her sleeves. 

“Oh sure, sure. You always take the newbies for a twirl around the dance floor.” Sam said, slapping a soapy cloth onto the bar and scrubbing at the sticky alcohol residue.

“Maybe the pretty ones.” Lena mumbled, picking up a chair and placing it on the table. “It didn’t mean anything.” She said, louder.

Sam chuckled. “Never suggested otherwise, boss. But you know, if you aren’t interested, do you mind if I...?”

Lena glared at her friend, a bar stool in each hand. “Just clean the damn bar, ok?”

They worked in silence then, Lena grabbing the broom and starting to sweep up the detritus of cigarette butts and bottle caps, the methodical movements allowing her to get lost in her thoughts. If she was being honest, Sam had touched a nerve with her teasing. Lena had no shortage of offers, no drought of women looking to share her bed for a night or two, but over the years as the bar grew in popularity, bringing new dangers with it, Lena had lost a little of her interest. Somewhere between paying off violent men and blackmailing people in positions of power to keep both her business and her patrons safe, the draw of fly-by-night women had faded, and a longing for something more permanent had crept in. She recognised now, in glorious technicolour hindsight, that there was something about Kara that had felt different to her usual flirtations; something both comfortable and electric all at once. Sure, the woman was beautiful, but that wasn’t it; beneath the shallowness of a pretty face and warm body, Kara Danvers had an allure and an intensity that made Lena feel, for the first time in years, hungry. Not that it mattered, Lena thought miserably. The blonde had left with her sister hours ago, without leaving so much as a phone number.

Groaning loudly to cover the raging thoughts in her head, Lena stretched, wincing at the ache in her back and legs. “My body is not used to using these dancing muscles.”

“Maybe you should change that. Cut a rug every once in a while.” Sam said distractedly, gathering her handbag and coat. “Right, I’m going to head home, if you’re done with me?”

The businesswoman nodded, and plucked a crisp note from her wallet, pushing it into her employee’s hand. “Sure thing. Take a cab.” 

Sam started to protest, and Lena waved her off. “Just take the money, will you? Otherwise I’ll feel obliged to drive you myself, and I’ve had too much to drink for that.” 

Reluctantly, Sam pocketed the money, pressing a kiss to her boss’s cheek. “See you tomorrow, Lena.” 

“Give Ruby a hug from me.” Lena smiled, pushing the woman towards the door. She waited at the curb until Sam was safely in her cab, and then wandered back inside.

She lived in the small apartment above the bar, which had started as a temporary measure when she’d first brought the place, and was now a convenient habit. As she carried out her final security checks, switching off the lights as she went, a noise caught her attention. It was a sort of moaning noise, drifting out of the women’s toilets. Gingerly, Lena slipped off her brogues, creeping back towards the bar in her socks. If she hadn’t been alone, Lena would have strode in to confront whatever was moaning behind the doors with bravado, but as it was, she carefully unhooked the crow bar stashed next to the sink, and, from a safe distance, called out, “I’m coming in, asshole! I’m armed!”

There was no response. Edging towards the door, she could hear a shuffling now, and the sound of...crying?

The bar had been the target of vandals and thieves often enough in the past, especially in the time before Lena had reached a cordial agreement with the local mob bosses, but sobbing was not a regular feature of those encounters. 

Taking a few final steps, the weapon still half heartedly raised in one hand, Lena pushed the door open. Sprawled on the tiled floor, clutching the toilet bowl, was a slight, brown-haired young woman, her face a mess of tear-ruined mascara and vomit-smeared lipstick. She looked up firm her place on the floor with sad eyes.

“M drun’ and all ‘lone.” 

Lena sighed, propping the crowbar against the coping of the door. “Ok honey, well, let’s get you up and see if we can’t solve at least one of those problems.“


	2. Chapter 2

The sun was still low in the sky when Lena rose from her bed, having never quite shaken off her early bird habits in spite of hundreds of late nights at the bar. Pulling on a worn pair of brown corduroys and a soiled undershirt, she wandered yawning into the kitchen diner and headed straight for the old second-hand electric coffee percolator. It had been a moving-in gift from Sam, and although she could now afford a better and more modern machine, she refused to give it up for sentimental reasons. On autopilot, she filled the machine from the faucet and tipped a generous helping of the expensive arabica beans she loved into the basket.

Leaning against the counter while the coffee brewed, the butch surveyed the apartment with unseeing eyes. It was minimalist - a beige couch and armchair set, a rarely used TV, a wooden dining table with fold down wings propped against a wall. The whole room was spotless, the furniture cheap but well cared for, the walls a soothing magnolia. Sam had been unimpressed at the neutral tones Lena had chosen, instead trying to steer her friend towards more trendy colours like orange or lime green, maybe even some patterned wall paper, but Lena knew what she liked, and what she liked was keeping things simple. She was rarely in the apartment anyway apart from to sleep and tinker on her side projects, and when doing either, she preferred the calming tones and uncluttered space.

Frowning at the door to her study, Lena wondered if it would be reasonable to wake her unexpected guest up this early. She’d managed to manhandle the girl up the stairs and onto the sofa bed in the spare room, leaving behind an old bucket, a glass of water and some aspirin, but that meant that there was now no way for Lena to get to her workbench without waking the youth up. 

On the counter next to her, the coffee pot began to perk, and she gratefully filled a cup, drinking it black and sugarless. A contented sigh left her lips at the first taste. There was a small bookshelf that came to about hip height that sat like a divider between the kitchen area and living room, mainly holding old romance novels that she would never admit to reading but couldn’t bear to throw away, and the oil-stained Haynes manual for her beloved turquoise Bel Air that lived in a lock-up behind the bar. Selecting a battered old paperback at random, she settled into the armchair to wait. She could give the kid til 8, at least.

At 7:55, the door opened, and the woman from the night before stepped gingerly out. She was wearing the same vivid green dress, her small purse held protectively in front of her. Lena carefully finished her paragraph, folded the corner of the page, and removed her reading glasses. She’d threaten the strange woman into silence over the spectacles later, but not yet - not when the woman looked so close to bolting, the image of the scared doe written in her every movement.

“Hello. How are you feeling?” The butch asked, not unkindly.

“I’m...I’m feeling a bit unwell, if I’m honest.” The dark haired stranger answered. Lena nodded sympathetically, taking in the sallow skin and the smudges where she’d tried to rub away the makeup stains. “I...uh...this is embarrassing, but I don’t remember much about last night. Did we...um...we didn’t...?”

Lena’s eyes widened, and she waved her hands. “No, god no. You were out of it. I don’t take advantage of drunk women, especially not ones crying on my toilet floor at 2 in the morning.”

The girl looked relieved; Lena tried not to take offence at that. “I’m Lena, by the way.”

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry. Nia. Nia Nal.” 

Lena jokingly touched her forelock. “Nice to meet you, Nia. Come, sit down, I’ll get you some coffee.”

Nia looked uncertain. “I might just need to use...”

The masculine woman gestured towards her own bedroom. “Bathroom is an en-suite through there, help yourself.”

Lena busied herself with fixing another cup of strong coffee, adding plenty of sugar and milk, and buttered a couple of slices of yesterday’s bread. By the sound of aggressive stomach-emptying drifting from the open bedroom door, Nia could use it.

When the woman emerged, she was shaking, and Lena had to resist the urge to physically help her cross the living room. “Sit here, get some coffee and food in you. It’ll help, I promise.”

They sat on the hard backed chairs at the table, Nia eating in pained silence and Lena sipping from her second cup. From close up, she could see that the woman was very young; too young certainly to be passing out on barroom floors...unless she was running from something.

“So,” the bar keeper began as Nia finished eating and began to politely dust crumbs from her vomit-stained dress, “I’ve got to ask; how come you decided to bed down on my toilet floor last night?”

“I’m so sorry. I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t usually drink alcohol, and I suppose I didn’t handle it very well.”

“There a reason you decided to drink it last night?” Lena asked casually, pushing an errant drop of coffee around the tabletop with the tip of her thumb.

Nia dropped her eyes. “I’ve had a run of bad luck. I came to National City to make something of myself, but I ended up losing every job I found, and then...”

“Then?” Lena prompted after a few seconds of silence.

“My landlord kicked me out yesterday.” When Nia looked up, her eyes shone with tears, and her bottom lip was quivering like a leaf in a storm.

“You mind if I ask why?”

Nia hesitated, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. 

“Look, I want to help you, but if you don’t tell me what happened I can’t do that.” Lena said, her voice soft.

The girl eyed the older woman, her face hardening and her chin tilting bravely upwards. “I...I wasn’t born a woman. My bosses found out, then my landlord, and I guess they didn’t like it very much because now I’m out on the street.”

Lena puffed out her cheeks. That sounded about right. In the years since she’d been running the bar, the Luthor had seen many young men and women like Nia pass through, often scared, often unsupported, and often without many options left to them. She’d always tried to help as best she could - referring them to trans friendly hostels, providing a warm meal and a few bucks for a bed for the night. It hadn’t always been enough. The areas around the gay and lesbian venues were crawling with gang-sponsored pimps and dealers, and as much as Lena could keep them away from her own premises with threats and bribes and mutual understandings, she couldn’t protect the frightened kids under her wing from the wider world. 

“What are you looking for?” Nia’s eyes grew in size, looking panicked. “I mean,” Lena continued, “what are you looking for work wise?”

The younger woman blew out a breath. “I was working in a typing pool, and then when they let me go I got a job in a shop selling shoes.”

Lena rose from her chair, and made her way slowly towards the coat rack by the front door. Riffling through a suede sports coat, she pulled out a pack of cigarettes, her mind whirring. Lena Luthor wasn’t one to make spur of the moment decisions, but she also wasn’t the sort of person to turn her back on someone in need, if she could help it. She sighed, moving back to her seat; she could explain things to Sam later.

Lighting two cigs and passing one across the table, the butch sat back on the hard chair, tapping her lighter on the table. Nia took a drag on the cigarette, and promptly began hacking her lungs up. Lena patted her back, pushing her half drunk coffee towards the girl.

“Look, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. But you seem like a good kid.” Nia stubbed out her unsmoked cigarette, rasping out a _thank you_. “I’m going to make you an offer, and it’s honestly no skin off my nose if you accept or not.”

Nia looked at her with barely hidden suspicion, hands folded in her lap. “I’m looking for weekend help at The Angel. Nothing too serious - glass collecting, a bit of cleaning. Maybe some actual bar work, depending on how things go.”

The younger woman looked immediately more hopeful. “Oh my gosh, that would be amazing. Thank you! I won’t let you down, Lena, I-“

Lena held up a hand to stop the rambling. “Here’s the deal. We’ll give you a two week trial, Thursday to Saturday 7 to 1, $11 a night plus evening meal before your shift starts. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds great.” Nia smiled gratefully.

Lena took long drag, squinting through the blue smoke. “You can stay here until you find your own place. I can give you some suggestions on where to start.”

Nia looked like she might cry. “You’re an angel.”

“I’m not an angel.” Lena said sternly. “I’m a Luthor. I’m giving you an opportunity here, Nia Nal. I’m trusting you not to let me down. If I find you’ve taken advantage of me, if anything goes missing or you bring any shit to my pub, you’ll find out quite quickly how little like an angel I am.”

“I understand.” The girl said, her face stoney serious. She held out her hand. “I won’t let you down, ms Luthor.”

Lena let a grin creep onto her face, shaking her new employee’s hand with a firm grip. “So, you need to go collect your stuff or something?”

Nia frowned. “My landlord threw me out but he kept my things. He wouldn’t even let me back in to get my coat.”

Lena sighed, and douted the cig smouldering in her hand. “Give me five minutes to get myself presentable. We’ll go see if we can’t convince him to be a little more...reasonable.”

—————————————————-

On Friday, Kara was awoken by the sound of the breakfast bell, a monstrous thing that hung outside the dining room and that Mrs Katz, her elderly landlady, rang each morning at 7am sharp to announce the morning meal was ready.

That gave Kara 10 minutes to get downstairs before she would be classed as “too late”, and turned away with an empty belly.

Grumbling, the blonde dragged herself out of bed, and began to pull on last night’s pedal pushers and blouse, while her mind strayed unbidden back to The Angel.

When Alex had initially mentioned the bar, a few weeks after she’d told Kara, shaking, that she was attracted to women, Kara had been eager to go. She was desperate that her sister knew she wasn’t alone, that she felt loved and supported regardless of who she herself might fall in love with, and following her to a lesbian bar seemed an obvious way to do that. Plus which, it had seemed like an adventure in the dull, grey vista of Kara’s day-to-day life, something exotic and foreign. 

It had been a little disappointment when they’d arrived outside the windowless building on a run down street, and found it to be just like every other bar in the city; a little women-heavy in the clientele, and with a few colourful characters, but otherwise unremarkable. Except...except...something kept drawing her thoughts back to it, and Kara was quietly disconcerted to realise it was the unusual owner with whom she’d spent all evening dancing, and talking, and smiling until her cheeks hurt. Over the following days, she’d found herself daydreaming about being back in the bar, looking into green eyes and being held by strong hands; at work when she was typing up reports, at the pictures with the other girls in the lodging house, on the bus to work; it seemed she was never safe from those recent memories, and the more she had, the keener she got to return to the clandestine bar down by the docks and see if the rose tint was accurate.

Stumbling downstairs and into the dining room, greeting a scowling Mrs Katz, Kara spied her sister halfway down the long faux-mahogany dining table, her arm draped over the adjacent seat to stop any of the other women jumping on. The older woman was already dressed for work in a navy wool blazer and matching skirt that fell to below her knees. It was no secret that Alex hated wearing the skirts and dresses that she was obliged to for her boring FBI desk job, but with her eyes firmly on the prize of becoming the first female Special Agent in over 30 years, she had no desire to rock the boat. 

“Hey, what is it today?” Kara asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes and sliding into the free seat.

Alex rolled her eyes, but not expressively, fearful of incurring the wrath of their hawk-eyed landlady. “Porridge. Same as every day.”

The blonde shrugged diplomatically, ladling herself a full bowl from the communal pot before picking up her spoon with a small happy wiggle. Unlike her sister, Kara had spent the formative years of her life on a starvation diet in a continent ravaged by war, and had learned early on to appreciate the simple joy of a full belly, especially one that wasn’t being offered with conditions attached. 

“So...” Alex said, when Kara had finished scraping up every morsel from her bowl. “Maggie mentioned at work yesterday that she might be at the bar again tonight.”

“Oh, are we going again?” Kara asked innocently.

“Yeah, why not? I mean, it’s a cool place. The music is good.” Alex said with effected nonchalance.

“And Maggie will be there, and you _love_ Maggie.” Kara grinned.

Alex laughed half-heartedly, glancing nervously at the people near them. None had looked up from their conversations, or even shown that they had heard. Kara mentally kicked herself for being so thoughtless; since her sister’s revelation, Kara had managed to normalise it in her own mind, recognising it as nothing more exciting than what anyone else felt at any given time. Unfortunately, that regularly caused her to forget that for all intents and purposes, Alex lived in fear, hidden out of necessity. 

“Of course I’ll go with you Alex. It’ll be fun.” Kara assured gently. “Now, go to work before you’re late again - go save the world, Supergirl.”

The brunette laughed, grabbing both her own and her sisters empty bowls to deposit on the trolley by the kitchen door, and ambled out, her pleated skirt trailing behind her. Kara watched her go with a smile.

“Ms. Danvers,” Mrs Katz said in her deep set Polish accent, “it’s nearly 7.30, you will also be late again.”

Kara gasped and looked at the clock, hanging on the wall in its ugly mahogany surround. 7:26. “Shoot!” She hissed, rushing upstairs. The old lady watched her go with a sniff.

————————————————-

Working for Catherine ‘Cat’ Grant, the first woman CEO of a Fortune 500 company and only the second female publisher of a major newspaper in American History, was a dream come true. Sure, some days it seemed more like a nightmare, when the woman was in one of her less endearing moods, but Kara was always grateful for the amount of experience she gained every single day at the National City Post. Where Alex’s aspirations lay on the other side of the FBI glass ceiling, Kara hoped that one day, with a foundation built through skivvying for the boss, she would achieve the coveted position of Reporter just like her cousin Clark.

“Kiera!” Kara jumped at the shrill voice echoing from her boss’s office.

“Yes Ms Grant?” 

In the palatial office, behind a mahogany desk slightly larger than Kara’s single bed and inlaid with green leather, sat Cat Grant. She was small, and owlish, with blonde hair kept straight and eyes that seemed to see right through you. She was scowling now, a sheaf of papers held in her hand. “I need this scribble typed up into something approaching English and I need it by 2. Mr Dennison writes like a five year old who needs a good spanking.”

Kara knew better than to comment, settling instead for scuttling across the office and politely snatching the documents from Cat’s waiting hand. “Sure thing Ms Grant, I’ll get these to you by 1:30.”

Returning to the little secretaries’ desk that was stationed outside the CEO’s office, the blonde was relieved to see that rather than handwritten notes, the papers were a fully typed first draft of an article. She was less relieved to find 4 spelling mistakes and a non-sensical sentence structure in the first paragraph.

As she got into the meat of the article, she saw why; it was a breaking news piece, probably cobbled together before the dawn of that morning by a man half crazed with tiredness. The story itself was nothing terribly unique, not in a place like National City, although the sheer ugliness of the incident made her frown: the badly mutilated body of some high level official or other, found in the early hours of that morning, dumped in the long grass of some vacant lot, his body parts arranged in a very specific shape and his hands and teeth gone. The corpse, or what was left of him, was on... Kara’s eyes widened. The man had been left on the same block as The Angel, just a few doors down, and just like that, fingers shaking over the keys, she was back in the smokey bar, held in place by kind green eyes.

——————————————

Friday rolled around, and The Angel looked no different to how it had that first time; a white-washed building on an industrial-looking street, without windows and with a door that when locked would be nearly impenetrable. Standing outside was a mix of women of all ethnicities and in various forms of masculine and feminine dress, smoking, laughing, leaning against the wall like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Walking into the venue _was_ different though; a couple of the customers smiled at them, and the air of familiarity made the second time a lot less intimidating. Just like before, the inside of the pub was smokey and loud, the sound of laughter and chatting bubbling up and over the thrumming of the juke box. The old Jo Stafford tune playing reminded Kara uncomfortably of a hazy, long-forgotten summer at college, and young men’s wandering hands. Following Alex through the crowd, Kara was surprised to see the bar tender waving enthusiastically in her direction; she waved back awkwardly, checking behind her in case the woman was greeting some other acquaintance, and wandered over towards the bar.

“Hey ladies, what can I get you?” The older woman said, leaning across to press her hand into a feminine attempt at a handshake with the elder Danvers.

“Whiskey for me please Sam, and I’d better grab a beer for the fed.” Maggie answered for them. appearing out of nowhere with a teasing wink, and leaning coquettishly on the bar close enough that Alex started to blush. Unperturbed, Sam nodded, and looked at Kara expectantly.

The blonde felt herself panic. She’d never been a drinker; the few instances when she’d had drinks forced on her by hopeful dates or over-enthusiastic friends had been a bust, and in one memorable occasion resulted in her expressively vomiting out of the passenger window of a moving pick-up truck, much to the disgust of the boy who had been pouring bourbon down her throat not too much earlier. Not wanting to seem out of place, the blonde went out on a limb. “Uh...I’ll have...vodka?”

Sam watched the display with a piercing gaze. “Tell you what, instead of vodka, you get settled and I’ll send something nice over. You’ll love it.” Kara’s nodded gratefully. “Lena’s in her usual spot.”

Before Kara could respond, the woman had walked away to retrieve Maggie’s order. Alex was looking at her strangely. “You and Lena hit it off, eh?”

Kara shrugged, her heart picking up at the reminder. “I guess we must have.”

Alex narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but didn’t comment, her eyes flicking to the woman at her side. “Ok then.” She said after a moment, in a voice Kara recognised as her _to be continued_ voice.

“You better get over there if you’re going, little Danvers.” Maggie said as Sam returned with a short and a beer bottle. “Luthor hates to be kept waiting, and this one owes me a game of darts.”

Alex looked like she wanted to intervene, but then the latina was holding her hand and dragging her away through the queue forming behind them at the bar, without time for more than a glance at the blonde left standing uncertainly behind them.

With nothing else to do, and surrounded by tutting women needing her place at the bar, Kara made her way nervously towards the booths lining the far wall. Sure enough, despite the crowds thronging the other tables, the last booth was free except for one familiar occupant.

“Hi.” Kara said, alarmed when her voice came out as barely more than a whisper. “Lena, hi.” She said a little louder, horrified when it came out as a shout the second time round. The couple canoodling at the table behind turned around, frowning. Kara held her hands up in apology, and when she turned back, it was to a soft, smiling face.

“Hello Kara, what a nice surprise.” The butch said, sounding sincere. “Join me?”

Kara looked at the paperwork covering the table. “Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

Lena shook her head, and began gathering up sheets and placing them into a black ring binder. “You’d be saving me from the horror of invoicing. Please, sit.”

Kara slid into the chair, dropping her handbag unceremoniously at her feet. “I didn’t realise running a bar meant so much admin.”

Lena snorted. “Running a successful bar takes a lot of man hours tied to a desk, but this is for my other projects.”

“Oh?” Kara asked curiously, her hand wandering of its own accord to pick up a hand written receipt. Lena, smiling, plucked it from her fingers.

“Nothing untoward. I take on little repair jobs for some pocket money. Car parts, household items, the occasional set of industrial tools for smaller outfits. I was keen on engineering when I was younger; it’s nice to keep my hand in, so to speak.”

Kara was impressed. “That’s amazing. Didn’t you ever consider it as a career?”

Lena’s expression darkened for a moment before she laughed, sounding brittle and false, and continued, “Well I did, but you don’t get to dress as snappily in a workshop as you do in entertainment.”

The blonde nodded, her gaze taking in the charcoal coloured suit, the matching fitted waistcoat, and the crimson neck tie that sat vibrant against the white linen shirt. “Definitely.” She murmured. 

The brunette smirked, taking a sip from her coffee cup. “So tell me Kara, what is it that brings you back here so soon?”

The secretary looked over the room, spotting her sister laughing with Maggie, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Alex suggested it, and I thought I’d tag along. 

“Is that so?” Lena asked, leaning into her elbows and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I half wondered if there might have been some other draw for you.”

Kara swallowed, suddenly conscious of how close their heads were. She could smell Lena’s aftershave - something spicy, without the usual musk of men’s perfumes. “I...I’m not...”

A glass hit the table next to them. “Sorry to interrupt.” Sam grinned, not sounding very sorry at all. “One virgin Hawaiian for the lady.”

Kara blinked, feeling stupid as she stared at the bright turquoise of the cocktail, maraschino cherries bouncing on the end of their cocktail sticks, a slice of pineapple hugging the edge. A tumbler was placed next to the Blue Hawaiian. “And an Old Fashioned for this utter ride.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Sam. Why didn’t you just send Nia?”

Sam smirked. “As if I would miss this.” Before Kara could get her wits together to comment, the bar tender was disappearing back towards her own domain.

“So, Kara.” Lena said curtly, suddenly business like. “You never told me what kind of secretary you are?”

“Oh, I um...I work in newspapers. I’m Cat Grant’s secretary over at the Post.”

The brunette nodded, eyes wide. “Wow, you must be good at your job. Cat can be ruthless.”

Kara frowned. “You know ms Grant?”

Lena shrugged nonchalantly. “I knew her and her late husband, in another life. So you must be ahead of the curve - whats the news today?”

“Untruths, injustice, violence...all the usual.” Kara took a sip of her drink, smiling for a second as the sweet, fruity flavour hit her tongue. “Oh, there was one thing that you might find interesting. They found a body, all cut up, not too far from here.”

Lena wrinkled her nose. “The police were crawling all over the place earlier, but I haven’t been able to find much about it.” The butch tried not to think who it could be, trying to forget the faces of the friends and lovers she’d lost because of who they were, who they loved, or the color of their skin.

“Well,” Kara whispered, “I’m not sure if I should be telling you this, but I guess the evening edition should be out now so there’s no harm in it...it was that new Chief of Police. Davidson? Donald?”

Lena frowned. “Donaldson?”

Kara nodded. “That’s him.”

“That’s...that’s a shame.”

The blonde pulled a face. “He didn’t seem like a very nice man, from what I’ve read of him. Not that I’d want _that_ to happen to anyone.”

“And what happened to him?”

As Kara recounted the story, swerving round some of the more gruesome aspects, she couldn’t help but notice Lena seemed to dim, mentally folding in on herself as if she was a million miles away. When she’d finished, they sat in silence, the music and the chatting around them only serving to make the absence of conversation more obvious.

“Lena, are you ok? I’m sorry if I upset you.” Kara’s said hesitantly, eyes downcast. A warm, lithe hand settled over hers, and she looked up into Lena’s apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry Kara, that was rude of me. It’s been a long week. Forgive me?”

Kara didn’t hesitate. “Of course, you don’t need to explain. Shall I...would you rather I left you alone?”

Lena stood up quickly, making Kara jump. “Not at all. Let me make it up to you with another drink, and then how about a game of darts? I can see your sister over there with our resident Police Officer, and its been ages since I had the chance to beat Maggie Sawyer at darts.” She finished with a wink, holding out her hand. 

Kara smiled, taking the offering graciously. “Only if I can be on your team?”

Lena twinkled at her, running her free hand through her slick black hair. “Oh, on that I _insist_.”

————————————————

There was a chill in the air that seemed to creep under her cardigan as Kara stood at the bus stop, her arm linked tightly with her sister’s. Apart from the brief cloud that had descended when she’d mentioned the death of Colin Donaldson, the evening had been thoroughly enjoyable. In retrospect, announcing that a vicious murder had occurred practically on the other woman’s doorstep probably wasn’t the best way of endearing herself to her new friend; as unshakeable as Lena seemed, she was probably terrified at the prospect of dangerous thugs lurking in her area. Kara would be. 

“Kara?”

The blonde broke from her self-loathing to look at her sister. The woman was nervously biting her lip. “What’s wrong?”

Alex exhaled, looking around at the deserted street before continuing. “I really like Maggie.”

“I like Maggie too.” Kara smiled, squeezing the brunette’s arm fondly.

“No, Kar, I mean...”Alex grimaced. “I like her. Like like her. In the...lesbian way.”

“Oh. Ohhhh.” Kara said, jaw dropping subconsciously.

“Yeah. Do you think...”Alex began, before cutting herself off with an annoyed sigh.

“Do I think what?” Kara asked, giving their joined arms a shake.

“Do you...think she might...like me back?” Alex groaned. “I sound like a little kid.”

The blonde giggled. “You do a bit. But if it helps, I think she was looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky tonight.”

Alex perked up. “You think?”

Kara smiled encouragingly.

“I think...I think I’m going to ask her out. Like on a date.”

“Ok.”

“You think she’ll say yes?”

“I think she’d be an idiot if she said no.”

Alex nodded, her anxiety falling away behind the armour of confidence she usually wore, the familiar mask falling into place. “I’ll ask her tomorrow. If she says no, at least I’ll know for sure.”

Kara hummed her agreement, wondering selfishly if she could somehow wheedle her way into following Alex to The Angel again tomorrow, hoping it might mean another night keeping the estranged Luthor company. “At least you’ll know.”

Down the street, headlights signalled the arrival of the late bus. Kara felt a strange pang in her chest, the closer it got - closer to taking her home, back to her real life, her job and friends and Mrs Katz’s horrible porridge, and further away from the tentative excitement of her new friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, using ‘faucet’ instead of ‘tap’ in a story: “Hello, fellow Americans. I am one of you now.”
> 
> Me, re-reading the same story and finding all the other non-American words I missed: “Bollocks.”


	3. Chapter 3

Alex felt like a fool, returning to the bar after less than 24 hours. She was a solid, stoic kind of woman - known and respected at her workplace as someone to be relied on in a crisis, and hotly tipped to be the Next Big Thing, if Hoover ever managed to pull his head from his ass. At the boarding house, the other women recognised her as a brick, someone to lean on, if not to get close to; it was more than once that she’d been called in to run off an overly aggressive boyfriend or an admirer who crossed a few too many boundaries. Yes, Alex Danvers was a confident, strong woman, in every way except one very secret and very personal matter.

It had been a while now since she’d accepted her attraction towards women was more than just platonic, although it was new enough that saying it out loud, or even in the confines of her head, made her bones shake in a mix of terror and excitement, in a way that she’d never really felt before in either her personal or professional life. It had been a relief to tell her sister, the closest thing to a best friend she had, and to be accepted regardless. It had taken a little of the fear out of it.

Then she’d found Maggie Sawyer. They’d met through work, the woman dragging in an unco-operative felon one day for FBI questioning, and Alex, tethered to her desk, unable to do much more than stare and feel the familiar stirrings of _something_ that she was only just putting a name to. Over the weeks of that investigation, the two women had gotten close enough to chat together and occasionally share a cup of bitter canteen coffee; it wasn’t until Alex had run into the officer at The Angel, a lesbian bar she’d only encountered because of some vice squad files that had drifted across her desk, that she’d allowed herself to acknowledge what she was feeling: desire.

And oh god, had that been scary. Thoughts of fear, and rejection, and past whispers about colleagues whose desks would be occupied one day and cleared the next, all crashed through her mind; underpinning the tumult, though, was a thin smear of hope. Maybe she could be happy. Maybe she could have it all. Maybe, maybe, maybe. All she had to do was be brave, for one, fleeting moment, and reach for it.

Steeling herself, Alex strode down the sidewalk, pushing open the door of the bar with barely a nod at the stragglers canoodling outside. The bar was packed, even more so than on the previous night; Sam didn’t even get chance to look up from the throng of women vying for her attention behind the bar, and the new girl - Niamh? Nia? - was practically running across the dance floor, a tray of dirty glasses wobbling precariously in her hands. Alex felt glad for the crowd; she wasn’t sure if she stopped to talk that she’d be able to keep her nerve.

She spied her target after only a few seconds. The woman was standing over the juke box, hand hovering over the listings. Her wavy black hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she wore a black leather jacket and tight fitted grey slacks that flared below the calf. Alex swallowed, mentally dusting herself off, and made her way over, eyes never wavering.

“Sawyer?” She asked, alarmed to hear the stutter in her voice.

The latina half turned, a huge smile springing to her lips as she recognised the speaker. “Danvers! This is a nice surprise, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

Alex blushed. “Yeah, I just...thought I’d swing by.”

Maggie nodded half heartedly. “Well you chose a good night. The band are just setting up - you’ll love them, they’re real hip. I’m just looking for a jam to set the mood before they arrive. I’m thinking Marvin Gaye, but-“

“Do you want to go to the pictures with me?” Alex interrupted, her blush turning from pink to scarlet.

The other woman blinked, shock radiating from every pore. “To the...pictures?”

“Yeah, to see a movie.” Alex said hesitantly, her hands drawing the shape of a rectangle in the air as if to demonstrate the point. “With me.”

“Oh.” Maggie said, nodding slowly. “I see.”

They stood in awkward silence. Unseen by either, a stranger sidled up and, leaning closely behind the cop, pressed a button on the box, causing the sound of The Supremes to fill the air. The jaunty tune did nothing to break the tension that had descended between the women.

“It’s fine, don’t worry, it was just a thought. I...I wanted to see that new Haunting flick but if it’s not your thing-“

“No,” Maggie said, her voice loud to be heard over the juke box, “I totally wanted to see that too. Claire Bloom is kind of my thing.” She finished with an awkward chuckle.

“Oh yeah, totally. I mean...I think she’s everyone’s kind of thing.” Alex responded, nervously running her hand through her hair, forgetting about the grease she’d used to slick it back, and leaving a tuft sticking out on one side. “So...that’s a yes?”

Maggie smiled brightly. “Yeah, sounds good. Tomorrow work for you?”

The taller woman beamed. “That would be awesome. I’ll meet you here at, say, 7?”

“Cool. I’ll ask Sam, I totally know she wanted to see it.” 

Alex’s face fell for a moment before she regained her poker face. “Oh, yeah, great. Great. We can ask Nia too. Maybe Lena. Great.”

“Great.” Maggie nodded, grinning.

“Swell.” Alex said, backing away. “Well, I should...” she gestured over her shoulder with a thumb.

“You don’t want to stay and see the band?” Maggie asked, pointing to the small stage behind the dance floor where two men were wrestling a drum kit into place.

“Nah, I can’t. I’ve got some...stuff...to do.” Alex continued walking backwards, towards the exit, bumping into someone and apologising profusely. “See you tomorrow, Maggie.” With that, she turned and scurried away, embarrassment burning throughout her body.

Maggie watched her go, smile faltering into a frown. “Yeah, see you tomorrow, Danvers.” She whispered to no-one in particular.

—————————————————

It felt weird to see this bus route in the daylight. Kara had ridden it twice now, always with her sister, and always under the cover of darkness. Riding it on a Sunday afternoon, surrounded by mothers taking their kids to visit grandparents and drunks recovering from their Saturday night out was both mundane and exhilarating.

When Alex had announced that she was going to the bar alone the previous night, to ask Maggie Sawyer out on a date, Kara had pushed her own desire to see Lena down under the need to be a supportive sister, and pushed the older Danvers out of the door with a smile and a wave. The warm glow about being a good friend had quickly worn off as she sat in her lonely bedroom and thought miserably of what she was missing out on. Lena had told her they had a band on Saturdays, and she could imagine herself swaying in the butch’s deceptively strong arms to the crooning of a real life soul singer, maybe pressing their bodies closer in the swell of people, the scent of the woman’s aftershave making her feel warm and safe. Maybe the crush of people would be so much that she’d have to slide her arms around the other woman’s waist, resting her head on Lena’s shoulder, solid under the padded suit jacket, her fingers toying with the Luthor’s habitual necktie and -

Kara shook her head, feeling dizzy. The thoughts she’d been having about her newest acquaintance had been taking on a decidedly romantic hue since that first night at The Angel, and the secretary wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was probably just enthusiasm for a new friendship, she’d reasoned, and confusion over the newness of Alex’s confession. Until a few weeks ago, Kara had never even thought about homosexuals besides the odd gossiped story at school or work. She’d certainly never considered same sex attraction to be a possibility for anyone she actually knew or cared about, let alone herself. It’s no wonder her thoughts had strayed that way now, after finally being forced to consider it so closely. Just idle curiosity, she thought primly.

Kara shifted in her seat, watching the factories and warehouses speed by outside the window. There was only two stops to go until she needed to alight.

Idle curiosity didn’t really explain what she was doing now though. The likelihood was that the bar wouldn’t even be open. Lena was probably at home, in the luxurious, modern apartment overlooking the bay that Kara had dreamt up in her mind. She could picture the masculine woman lounging on her balcony, a glass of highend brandy in hand, wearing silk pyjamas and a house coat, enjoying her day of rest. The blonde tried not to imagine who Lena might choose to spend that day of rest with. It had seemed logical that morning, and she hadn’t been able to run it by Alex to check if she was being crazy - her sister had been up and out before the breakfast bell was rung that morning, and hadn’t been back to the lodgings before Kara, unable to hold her restlessness in any longer, had left.

The bus dinged as it pulled up at her stop. Kara helped lift a pram down the steps for a grateful older gentleman, and inhaled the air. It smelled like warm tarmac, frying chicken, and the faint undercurrent of rotten fish that drifted up from the docks. 

She’d worn a pastel green pair of clam diggers and sandals, and a light flannel blouse to top it off, in honour of the lingering warmth of early autumn, and felt lighter than she had all day as she practically skipped down the road, golden hair bouncing free.

From the gloom of an alleyway, a man whistled at her, but Kara ignored him, focused solely on her destination. As she reached the bar, she was disappointed but unsurprised to see the outer door pushed closed. After a moment’s hesitation, she rapped firmly on the metal. From inside, there was the should of footsteps, and someone laughing. Kara stepped back in surprise as a grate, hitherto unseen, slid back at eye height.

“Who is it?” Came a jovial, feminine voice from the darkness.

“It’s...uh...Kara. Danvers.” Kara said, clutching the strap of her purse tightly. “I’m looking for Lena?”

“One sec.” The hatch closed, and there was silence. Kara stood awkwardly in the street. A few doors down, the man who had cat-called her had walked outside, and was leaning nonchalantly against his property, staring.

From inside the bar, another set of footsteps approached, followed by the sound of jangling keys. When the door opened, it was to reveal Lena dressed in the most casual outfit Kara had ever seen her wearing - beige chinos, a short sleeved yellow shirt, hanging open to reveal a white undershirt, and a battered pair of suede loafers. Kara wasn’t aware that she was staring until the other woman cleared her throat.

“Kara, what are you doing here?” She said, her surprise evident. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, of course.”

Kara blinked stupidly, feeling suddenly unsure of herself. “I was...in the area. I thought I’d stop by, but it seems you’re closed?”

“We are, but please, come in.” Lena stepped aside, holding the heavy door open with one hand. “We’re just sitting down to some lunch.”

Kara hesitated, one foot on the step. “Oh I don’t want to be a bother.”

Lena smiled, exuding a warmth making Kara shiver. “You could never be a bother. I’d love you to join us.”

They stood still for a moment, grinning at each other. 

“Jesus H Christ, you pair - the foods going cold.” A voice called from inside. Lena rolled her eyes, but ushered the blonde inside nevertheless.

As Kara’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw that two tables had been pulled together in the middle of the floor to create one long dining table, sporting a white cloth and some glowing tea lights. Sat around the table was Sam, a younger woman Kara vaguely recognised as the newest staff member, and a child of about 8 or 9. They were all staring over expectantly. Lena rushed to the table, grabbing a spare chair and placing it firmly at the head of the table. She patted the back, smiling at Kara.

“Please, sit here next to me. Everyone, this is Kara Danvers. Kara, I think you know everyone except Ruby here; Ruby is Sam’s daughter.” The little girl was grinning a toothy smile. 

“Yes hi, everyone.” Kara said, giving a nervous wave as she shuffled to her seat.

“Nia love, can you give me a hand bringing the food down?” Lena said, patting Kara softly on the shoulder and making her skin tingle beneath her blouse.

The young woman seated opposite Kara jumped up, smiling, and walked round to put an arm casually over the owner’s shoulders. “Anything for you, boss.” Kara watched them saunter away, chuckling together, with a frown.

“So, Kara, how is your sister feeling?” Sam asked, absently wiping a stray hair from her daughters face. The girl tried to bat her hand away, blowing a raspberry.

“Alex?” Kara wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Fine, I think. Why?”

“Oh.” Sam said, looking surprised. “We were meant to be going the cinema later but she called a little earlier, said she wasn’t feeling too well.”

“Ah, sorry yes. She was a little under the weather this morning, I’m sure she just wanted to make sure she didn’t pass it on.” Kara lied quickly, before a thought struck. “I thought she was going to the cinema with Maggie?”

Sam raised her eyebrows. “Yes, Maggie said she’d invited me and Nia too?”

“I wasn’t allowed to go.” Ruby said, leaning into Kara’s side conspiratorially. “They’re going to see a scary film.”

“I must have got the wrong end of the stick.” Kara said, glancing between the mother and daughter. Sam looked like she was going to say more, but they were interrupted by the clattering of the ‘Staff Only’ door.

“Here we are!” Lena cried, placing two large oval plates in the centre of the table. One held a small roast chicken, surrounded by potatoes, and the other an array of fresh salad. Nia trotted in a few seconds later, placing a large steaming bowl of white rice and a tray laden with home made sauces down. Standing back and placing hands on hips, both women surveyed the feast they had provided, until Nia threw her hands in the air dramatically. “I forgot the bread!” She quickly planted a wet kiss on the older woman’s cheek, and scurried away, leaving Lena rubbing away a lipstick mark and chuckling fondly. Kara narrowed her eyes at Nia’s retreating back, feeling jealousy begin to seed in her gut.

————————————————-

By the time Kara returned to the rooming house, it was late, and she felt a little sleepy from the amount of food she’d eaten at the bar. It had been a pleasant afternoon, wedged at the table between Ruby and Lena, her knees brushing the butch’s every so often. Lena had offered her wine, but Sam, in her kind, motherly way, had wordlessly taken Kara’s wine glass and filled it up with lemonade, the same as Ruby’s. Lena had just shrugged, and poured Sam and Nia a larger glass. The thought made little worms of annoyance squirm in her veins all over again. Not because of Sam, who seemed more like a sister than a colleague to the charismatic bar owner, but because of Nia; pretty, sweet Nia, with her pleasant compliments and earnest optimism. Kara felt bad for trying to dislike the girl, and even worse because she couldn’t, not even when Lena brushed the girl’s hips when reaching for a cigarette, or when she let Nia wipe a drip of sauce from her shirt.

Much too late for dinner, and unwilling to face the other boarders in the TV room, Kara stumped upstairs, feeling confused and content and tired all at once.

“Hey, Kara, I thought it was you.” A tall, red-headed Texan named Joan called from the doorway of the living room. “Mike called, he said he wouldn’t leave a message but would catch you tomorrow at work. He sounded kind of put out.”

Kara groaned loudly. She’d forgotten that they’d agreed to go for coffee that evening. Just what she needed. “Thanks Joan.” 

The girl laughed, shaking her head, and retreated back into the front room.

Entering her room and closing the door with a resounding click, Kara sighed, flopping down on the small bed, legs jutting out so her shoes didn’t muddy up the blankets. She stared at the ceiling, trying to puzzle through the tumult of feelings she had brought home with her.

She had no reason to feel jealous of the way Lena and Nia reacted to each other; no cause to feel even the slightest bit envious if the two women were lovers. She had no claim on the youngest Luthor. She didn’t _want_ a claim. Kara rubbed a hand over her face, smudging her cheap mascara. She, Kara, wasn’t interested in women that way, and it was unfair of her to project whatever this silly crush was onto these two innocent people. It’s just that, without reminding herself regularly that the infatuation wasn’t real, it felt less like a temporary pash, and more like...yearning? The thought sent a jolt of shock through her body, but before she could dig any deeper, a knock came at the door.

“Kar? Can I come in?”

Hearing her sisters voice, the blonde sat up and reached to open the door. Alex stood in the doorway, looking dishevelled and small.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” She asked, jumping up to pull her sister into a hug. After a moment, the older woman melted into the embrace, a faint sniffle suggesting that she’d started to cry. Without breaking the cuddle, Kara walked them backwards into the room so she could kick the door shut, locking out prying eyes. “Talk to me, what’s happened?” Kara asked, worried. Alex rarely cried, rarely showed any emotion that she considered ‘weak’.

“I messed it up.” She mumbled into Kara’s shoulder. 

“Messed what up?”

Alex leaned back, wiping the the tears from her eyes with the hem of her shirt. “With Maggie.”

Kara frowned. “How? What happened?”

“I asked her out like I said I was going to, and she just...she invited Sam. And then I panicked, and invited Nia, and Lena. Oh god, I even invited Lena. I think she would have invited half of the bar if I hadn’t run out of there, just so she didn’t have to go with me.” Alex said, slumping onto the edge of the bed ungracefully, elbows on knees and head in hands.

“Oh, honey.” Kara said sympathetically, sitting next to the brunette and running her back. “You couldn’t have asked her right - she probably thought you meant going to the flicks as friends.”

Alex shrugged, looking forlorn. “I think...I think she just didn’t want me, and didn’t know how to let me down gently.” Kara watched, face furrowed with concern as her sister’s face crumpled again. “She’s the first girl I liked when I _knew_ I liked her, and she turned me down.”

Kara pulled the crying woman into her arms, all of her own problems forgotten. “She didn’t turn you down, sweetheart, we just need to work this out and then we can try again. And even if she did, then she’s an idiot, Alex. You’re lovely, any woman should be proud to have you.” 

Alex just sniffled louder, the feeling of rejection bruising her heart for the first time. “I hate love.” She managed, the words muffled by the thin material of her sister’s top.

——————————————

Lena had insisted on driving Sam home, once she’d walked Kara to the bus stop and seen her safely on her way. They piled into the spotless car, Ruby crammed into the back seat, fast asleep, clutching a package of lemon cake wrapped in grease proof paper.

“So, Kara, eh?” The mother asked, her eyes glowing under the passing street lights.

“What about Kara?” Lena asked tersely. 

Sam laughed. “You’re about as opaque as Saran Wrap, I can see right through you. You _like _ her.”

“Well, so what? She’s pleasant to be around.” Lena said, eyes firmly on the road.

Sam rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me do the ‘like like’ thing as if we were in middle school, Lena.”

Lena sighed. “Fine, look, I’m mature enough to admit that I’m attracted to her. She’s an attractive woman-“

“And affectionate, kind, funny, intelligent-“ Sam added helpfully.

“Yes, all those things.” Lena said, annoyed. “She’s also the straight sister. She isn’t interested in me like that, and if she is it’ll just be some stupid...crush. An experiment, to say she’s done it, and then she can go back to men.”

Sam stared at her for a long moment. “Wow, who hurt you?”

Lena tightened her hands on the steering wheel. “You know who hurt me.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence, but after they had pulled up at the small bungalow in the safe part of town, and Lena had carried a prone Ruby inside and tucked her into bed, she let Sam pull her into a hug. 

“I just care about you, ok?” She said, stepping back and dusting non-existent lint from her friend’s shoulders. “I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.” Lena said, squeezing Sam’s hands. “Promise. I just...Yes, sometimes I’d like more, but I’m too old for one night stands and straight women, Sam.”

“You’re 28, Lena, you’re still young.”

Lena laughed, shaking her head. “I know. But I feel too old for all that nonsense in here. Not after everything.” She tapped her chest, just over her breast.

Sam nodded. “Well, you’ve always got us.”

“Sisters forever?” Lena held up her pinky, wiggling it teasingly. Sam laughed, a full belly laugh that threatened to wake the sleeping child in the next room, and slapped her friend’s hand away.

“Get out of here, you bloody deviant. Drive safe.”

Lena laughed, sauntering to her car with hands in pockets. “Next time let’s talk about _your_ nonexistent love life, ok?” She shouted over her shoulder, receiving another belly laugh from Sam.

She turned the radio up as she pulled out of the driveway, trying to block her own thoughts out as she drove home, humming along to the popular hits.

Sealing the Bel Air in the lock-up behind the bar, Lena let herself into the property by the back entrance, clanking up the small flight of metal steps as quickly as possible. She wasn’t scared as such - the local gangs and n’er-do-wells knew the score and it would be a foolish con indeed who tried to jump her, but there were plenty of other nut-jobs who wouldn’t think twice. There was, after-all, a reason she’d had the ground floor windows bricked up.

The package was half hanging out of the letter box when she shut the door, a smallish Jiffy bag with her name scrawled on the front in black marker pen. Lena turned it over in her hands, cautiously probing the texture inside. It didn’t feel heavy or solid enough to be a bomb. Moving up the stairs into her apartment, Lena flicked the lights on, hoping she wouldn’t wake Nia, and rifled through her kitchen draws to find a sharp knife. Sitting down at the table, she used the knife to tear a slit in the top, pulling her vest over her mouth and nose just in case, before up ending the package. 

The plumeria that drifted out was yellow and white, or had been before being dried. One of its petals had been crushed, the flakes clinging to the soggy end of the parcel’s other occupant: a cold, blue-ish severed finger, still wearing a gold sovereign ring.

Lena knew where she’d seen that ring before instantly; she’d last seen it on a sunny day in a stuffy Chief of Police’s office, on Colin Donaldson’s finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to keep it light”, I said. Two chapters later, there’s a severed finger in a jiffy bag.
> 
> As always, I apologise for any spelling or grammar errors I may have missed.


	4. Chapter 4

The private investigator’s office was more like a converted store, wedged between a tailors and a convenience store; the windows had been frosted, and gold lettering applied with the company’s name, but otherwise it could have been mistaken for any other nondescript shop on the quiet downtown street.

Lena squinted at the name over the door; “John Jones, Private Investigator”. The brunette shrugged at her companion, removing her fedora before opening the heavy wooden door and ushering the other woman through.

The inside of the agency was more like a library than an office. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and the dark wood of the furniture and panelling gave the atmosphere a cozy feeling.

“Can I help you?” 

Lena looked up at the man who had spoken, her hat held almost protectively in front of her. He was a distinguished looking black man, in his mid-50s, with kind but knowing eyes and a calming voice that dripped quiet authority.

Lena stepped forwards, hand outstretched. “Mr Jones, my name is Lena Luthor. This is my lawyer, Ms. Lucy Lane.”

The man nodded, shaking both women’s hands. “And what brings you to my business?”

“I have heard you are very good at what you do, Mr Jones, and I have had some...correspondence that I need investigating.” 

“Discretely investigating.” Lucy added, her piercing eyes never leaving the man in front of her.

“I see. Well, perhaps you should have a seat and we can discuss the nature of this correspondence.” He gestured then towards a large, heavy table and chairs set to one side of the room. “Can I get you anything?”

Both women declined, sliding into their respective seats, hands resting flat on the table in a mirror image of each other.

After a few moments, John Jones sat down opposite them, placing a large notepad onto the desk and clasping his hands in front of him. “So, where shall we begin?”

Lena cleared her throat. “I’m sure you have already wondered, Mr Jones, but I would like to start by confirming that I am indeed one of _those_ Luthors. Although somewhat estranged, happily so, my brother is Lex Luthor, the conservative politician and businessman.”

John nodded, his expression unchanging; Lena powered on. “It’s safe to say that the relationship I have with my family is almost non existent. They disapproved of certain aspects of my life, and I very much disagreed with many of theirs. I accepted a sum of money many years ago to remove myself from the limelight, and distance my interests from the family. It was to provide a sort of truce, I suppose, for all involved. Better for everyone.”

“I see.” The man said, his tone neutral. “And now?”

Lena narrowed her eyes, calculating. After a long few seconds, she reached into her coat and removed a padded envelope. “A few days ago, I received this through the post.” She slid the envelope across the table. A finger clamped down on one corner, stopping its progress.

“I must insist,” Lucy said calmly, her finger tip pressed into the paper packaging, “that what we discuss here, and specifically the contents of this envelope, remain within these four walls. By offering this information, my client concedes no responsibility or legal culpability for any of the events relayed.” 

“Of course.” John said, eyebrow raised. “May I?” He asked gesturing towards the package. Lena nodded, and the lawyer reluctantly withdrew her grasp. Pulling away the piece of tape that held the Jiffy bag closed, he upended the package.

“I do hope you’re not squeamish.” Lena said dryly as the severed appendage inside bounced to a halt on the varnished wood, the remnants of the dried flower coming to rest nearby.

The investigator pursed his lips, as if he had just seen something distasteful on the sidewalk, but did not otherwise react.

The finger was going black now, the remaining blood having pooled and congealed, but mercifully it hadn’t yet started to stink - Lena had kept it in her refrigerator while she worked out what to do, much to Nia’s horror.

“Can I ask who this belongs to?” John asked eventually.

Lucy put a hand on Lena’s forearm, shaking her head. “I think, until the terms of our arrangement are finalised, we would prefer not to share that information, except to say that we believe this was someone my brother may have had killed.”

“I see.” John said, sitting back casually in his seat, adjusting his necktie with one finger. “I assume this was sent to you as some kind of threat?”

Lena bit her lip, hesitating before continuing. “I believe, Mr Jones, that this is a signal that the armistice between my family and I is at an end. I believe this is a warning to, as they say in the movies, get on my horse and get out of town.”

John picked up a pen and rolled the finger over, leaning in to look at the signet ring. “Interesting choice of message. Not very direct. Why do you think it’s from your family?”

Lena gave a wry smile. “While I understand that there are a number of people who would _love_ to see me disappear, Mr Jones, given this situation,” she gestured to her clothing, “they are rarely this subtle. No, this is a very...Lex thing to do. The flower, you see, is a plumeria. Our mother grew a plumeria tree in the garden when we were children, and they were my favourite. He would often present me with blooms as a show of our sibling bond, to use his words. Sending one with the severed digit of a mutual acquaintance suggests that any such bond has also been...cut.”

John blew out his cheeks. “Have you taken this to the police?”

“Would you, Mr Jones?” Lena asked calmly. “Do you believe that either of us would get a fair shake against the rich and powerful Lex Luthor, when the law already treats us like criminals-in-waiting?”

The man shrugged. “How do you need my help, Ms Luthor?”

“I need proof of my brother’s misdeeds, Mr Jones. Anything and everything you can find. I know where several of his metaphorical skeletons are buried, but without hard evidence it’s just hearsay.”

The investigator sat quietly for a moment, tapping the end of his pen absently onto the sovereign ring. “This could be a dangerous game you’re playing.” He said eventually. “Power in this country is a corrupt and jealously guarded thing.”

“I know that better than anyone, Mr Jones.” The butch woman leaned forward, green eyes boring into the man’s dark ones. “But I won’t go down without a fight. I have as much right to a life here as anyone else, and if my brother thinks he can take that away from me, then he needs to learn otherwise. I won’t go back to hiding.”

“I can empathise with that.” John said, placing down the pen with a click and resting his elbows on the table. “My services aren’t cheap.” 

Lena nodded towards her lawyer, who plucked a thick, plain envelope from her handbag. “This is $200 dollars cash, Mr Jones, as a deposit. A further $200 to follow on completion of our agreement, and an additional $100 dollars one calendar year after that to ensure utmost discretion.”

John whistled. “That’s a lot of money, Ms Luthor. Can I ask where you obtained that kind of cash?”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “I’m a small business owner, Mr Jones. I drew some capital, that’s all you need to know. Do you want this work or not?”

John stood up, his hand held out expectantly. “I look forwards to working with you in the future, Ms Luthor.”

“Please, call me Lena.” The woman said, smiling, as she grasped the man’s hand in a firm shake.

—————————————-

Kara had just finished her lunch in the office canteen when Mike found her.

She sighed, before turning round with a bright, brittle smile. Advertising Assistant Mike Matthews, née Mon El, was handsome, in an unthreatening, boyish kind of way, with an easy smile and a flirtatious streak that had won over many of the Post’s other female workers. It was no secret around the office that he had his eye on the boss’s secretary, and had done since the day he started. 

It should have been an easy match, on paper. They were the same age, both attractive professionals, and they’d both lost their homelands to war and the unstoppable motion of the kindertransports. It was nice, Kara had thought at first, having someone who understood in a way no one else around her could the fear of being loaded onto those trains by well-meaning foreigners, and the strange loneliness of the following months, where kind English ladies with worried eyes and badly pronounced pigeon-German would try and fulfil the role of carer for hundreds of emotionally scarred children, while the government found them foster families. They’d spent many lunches talking about their memories of those times: of empty tummy’s that rationing couldn’t fill, bombers painting the sky black, and the feeling of loss when they were eventually loaded onto new ships and sent to America, terror of invasion driving them across the sea all over again.

It was only later on, when the office gossip finally reached her, that Kara realised Mike was after more than just a friendly ear. By then it was too late - Kara was too polite to sever all ties, and Mike too keen to pick up on Kara’s disinterested queues. Instead, he’d kept asking, and she kept dodging, accepting only the most platonic of outings when he really wouldn’t take no for an answer, waiting until he got bored of her prudishness or found a new crush.

“Hey, Kara, can I sit with you?” Mike asked, already putting his tray down. “How’s things?”

“Oh, you know. Busy.” Kara said coolly.

“Yeah, I bet. I’ve hardly seen you at work, and you never called me back, even though I left you messages. Where have you been?” He asked, ladling soup into his mouth. 

Flashes of the last few days whizzed before her eyes - Alex crying, and Lena’s confusing smile. “Oh just, uh, about. All over really. I’m sorry for missing you.” Kara said, pushing her glasses back up her nose awkwardly.

Mike nodded, a cheeky grin forming on his face. “Well, you could make it up to me?” 

“How So?” Kara asked, brow furrowing.

Mike leaned closer, his chair squeaking as it dragged over the floor, and placed a hand over Kara’s. “Let me take you out?”

“Out?” Kara asked, biting her lip. 

“To dinner.” Mike smiled, his eyes soft. “Let me treat you.”

The usual refusal was on the tip of her tongue. This was the moment she would usually slip away, a litany of excuses left behind her, but as she opened her mouth, she remembered Lena’s hand on Nia’s bare arm, and the swell of complicated, tangled feelings that had kept her awake long after midnight for the past two weeks. “Ok.” 

Mike’s eyes lit up in surprise. “Ok?”

Kara exhaled, forcing herself to look happy. “Yes, let’s go to dinner. Just let me know where and when.”

She sat with Mike while he ate his lunch, chatting happily together and making plans for their date under the watchful gaze of their colleagues, and all the while Kara couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness.

———-—————————————

Lena sat at the bar, feeling cautiously optimistic. It was Thursday, four days after Lex’s threat had arrived, and there’d been no more contact from him or any of his goons. She’d even allowed herself to relax enough to pick up her novel once more without her mind running a hundred yard sprint. 

The bar was quiet at this early hour, with just a few women hanging around the darts board. Sam has suggested getting a pool table, to liven the place up mid-week, but that was some way off now she’d handed all her savings over to John Jones. The rest of the cash was coming from a bank loan, organised by Lucy and with her beloved car as collateral, and the thought of that risk made a chill run up her spine. Lena took a swig of her coffee, and pushed the thought down. At least it wasn’t The Angel.

Sam and Nia were chatting quietly behind the bar, the drone a soothing lullaby as Lena read her book, and she didn’t look up when the door opened until a hand brushed her back.

“Hey.” Kara smiled at her, fondly. 

“Kara, hi.” Lena couldn’t help but beam, the unexpected sight of the blonde lighting her up from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to stop by on the way home.” Kara’s said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Lena wrinkled her nose. “Is this on your way home?”

Kara chuckled, dipping her head. “Not particularly. It’s just been a long day, and I’m not going to get to stop by tomorrow like normal, so I thought I’d pop in today instead.”

“Well,” Lena said, patting the bar stool next to her, “I’m very glad you did - you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Kara blushed, while Lena gestured to Sam. “Kara, lovely to see you again. What can I get you?” The older woman said brightly. 

“Just a coke for me please.” Kara asked. Sam nodded, and Nia, waving at the blonde, went to grab a bottle.

“Nia is learning the bar trade.” Lena said by way of explanation. 

“Lena has decided to keep me on, isn’t that great?” Nia said, pouring the soda into a glass and placing it down next to Kara.

“That’s great news, Nia.” Kara said genuinely, unable to let her residual jealousy taint her happiness for the girl. “Congratulations.”

Nia clapped her hands together, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Lena’s given me some contacts for apartments too. I’m so happy right now.”

“I might finally get my spare room back.” The butch said with a teasing smirk.

Nia rolled her eyes. “Just for that, I’m going to stay. Move that great, greasy workbench into _your_ room instead.”

“Now, now, children.” Sam said, flicking the two women with the end of her tea towel. “Kara doesn’t need to hear your domestic squabbles. You’re like a bickering old married couple.”

Kara had been laughing along, but at that her smile faltered slightly. Sam, noticing the sudden silence, ushered Nia away to collect some of the empty glasses, trailing along after her to needlessly dust the far tables.

“So,” Lena said, lighting a cigarette, “why has your day been so long?”

“Ah, you know, work, the usual.” Kara said, frowning.

Lena exhaled, blowing smoke over her shoulder, before settling the stick in the ashtray, and resting her elbow on the bar, legs spread in a masculine fashion. “Anything I can help with?”

Kara laughed. “I’m afraid not.”

The owner narrowed her eyes, placing a hand on the other woman’s knee protectively. “I may not be able to fix everything, but I’m a good listener.”

Kara swallowed, staring at the hand. “Oh...I...ah...”

Lena quickly drew back, looking apologetic. “Sorry.”

“No,” Kara said, grabbing the other woman’s wrist, “don’t apologise.”

They stared at each other, tension building, and then Kara let go of Lena’s wrist, running her hand through her blonde locks. “I do have some news.” She said, keen to break the crackling atmosphere that had settled between them.

The brunette blinked. “Not more murder most horrible, I hope?”

“No, good news.” Kara said, willing it to be true. “I have a date.”

“A date?” Lena said, eyes wide. “That is...news. Who’s the lucky person?”

“Mike, one of the guys from work. He’s been asking for a while, and I just thought ‘why not’.”

Lena picked up her cigarette, averting her eyes. She looked, Kara thought, uncharacteristically glum. “Why not indeed?”

“Lena?” Looking up, Kara saw a heavy set woman dressed similarly to Lena, in suit and braces, a pastel blue shirt open at the neck. Her muddy blonde hair was trimmed unfashionably short, almost in a crew-cut, and she looked nervous. 

“Hey, Jo.” Lena said, jumping off the bar stool and taking the stranger’s hand. “How’s business?”

Jo gave a noncommittal shrug. “So-So. Making ends meet.”

Lena nodded, and Kara saw her squeeze Jo’s hand hard enough that the skin turned white. “What brings you over this way? I thought Morgan Edge banned you from places that refused to bend the knee.” 

The woman rolled her eyes, snatching her hand back. “I’m here on his behalf.”

“Are you now? Well, I don’t want to buy any dope, I don’t want to buy any girls, and I definitely don’t want to buy into his racket, so what can I do for you?”

There was a terse silence, neither woman blinking. Kara licked her lips, taking into account the difference in stature between the two women sizing each other up. Jo dwarfed the brunette, but there was no sign of fear in Lena’s eyes. The realisation made Kara feel warm.

“Look, I’m just the messenger.” Jo said finally, lowering her heckles. “I don’t want any trouble with you, Lena. I’ve always respected you and yours.”

“Good.” Lena said, her voice neutral. “So, how about you pass on your message, and then you go about your evening?”

Jo nodded, leaning down so her lips were nearer the owner’s ear. Subconsciously, Kara leaned forwards to hear better.

“Morgan says you should accept his generous offer of protection now, while you can. A storm is coming, and he won’t ask again.”

Lena inhaled, taking a step back. When Kara looked at her face, she looked less afraid, and more disappointed, like a nursemaid whose charge has misbehaved. “Well, that’s not exactly original. The answer, Jo, is still no. Not now, not ever. Now, let me get you a beer, and then you can get the _hell_ out of my bar.”

Jo laughed, a cruel, hissing laugh. “I told him you’d say that. Keep the beer, you’ll need a drink come tomorrow.”

Kara watched Lena watch Jo leave. There was no emotion on her handsome face, but as the door closed, the brunette swore quietly under her breath.

“Who is Morgan Edge?” Kara asked. Lena jumped, apparently having forgotten the blonde’s presence.

“I’m sorry Kara, that was rude of me. I would have introduced you but I think you’re better off not knowing the likes of Jo Davenport.” Lena walked round the bar, brushing past Sam who had drifted back to the bar during the encounter and was nervously standing by the cellar hatch, twisting a rag in her hands. She pulled out a fresh coke for Kara, before opening three beers, passing two to Sam. “For you and Nia.” Sam nodded, still seeming apprehensive, and shuffled away. 

Lena took a deep swig of alcohol, then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “Morgan Edge is one of the local mob bosses. Fancies himself top dog, but really he’s just a dime-store crook.”

“He was offering to protect the bar though?” Kara said, brows furrowing.

“Kara, that’s what the mafia _do_. They make you pay for protection from themselves. It’s like giving a bully your lunch money so they leave you alone.”

“Oh.” Kara said quietly, wiping at the perspiration on her glass with a painted nail.

“Hey,” Lena smiled, tapping the blonde’s wrist with a fingertip, “don’t worry. Morgan Edge is all mouth and no bite. You’re safe here, Kara. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Kara forced a smile. “I know. I wasn’t worried about me. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Standing up straight, Lena winked roguishly. “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m tough as old boots. Now, what would you say to a lift home?”

———————————————————

The car was probably the nicest that Kara had been in; the seats were butter soft leather, the same shade of turquoise as the body, and the dash and gear stick were inlaid with polished wood.

Lena held the door open for her, and Kara eased herself in while the butch swaggered round to the driver’s side. 

“This is your car?” Kara asked, as Lena fiddled with the radio.

Lena chuckled. “All mine, brought and paid for. She’s my baby.”

“So your cars a woman then?” 

“Need you ask?” Lena twinkled. Kara felt a blush bloom on her cheeks.

As they drove, Kara was conscious of Lena’s hand on the gear stick, close to her own knee, the warmth bleeding through the sheer material of her stockings making her skin tingle. The familiar spicy aftershave tickled her nose, and Kara wondered if her own perfume was as noticeable to Lena. Looking over, Kara licked her lips. The butch’s eyes were on the road, face serene, her profile made dream-like by the dark and the intermittent streetlights. The woman had loosened her necktie, and the glimpse of clavicle under the open collar button was oddly attractive.

“Something on your mind?” Kara jumped, realising that Lena was stealing glances at her, a smirk playing on her lips.

“I, uh...the car. Just thinking you sure look after your car.” Kara stuttered, embarrassed.

“You have to look after the women in your life.” Lena grinned, indicating to turn onto a road that Kara vaguely recognised as her own.

“That’s a strange motto.” Kara said, a smile playing on her mouth.

“Its always worked for me.” Lena said, shrugging. Kara tried not to think about the history behind that statement.

“Here is fine.” Kara said, spotting her building. 

Lena pulled over, turning off the engine and unbuckling her seatbelt. Seeing Kara hesitate, the woman responded, “I’ll walk you to the door.”

They walked together in comfortable silence, shoulders bumping, until they stood under the porch light. “Thank you, Lena.” 

“Anytime. I really enjoy your company, in case it wasn’t obvious.” Lena said, smiling. “I’ll drive you wherever you want to go, all you have to do is ask.”

Kara ducked her head, feeling her heart thundering, overwhelmed with a sudden urge that she couldn’t quite put a name to but that made her palms itch with the need to touch.

“Goodnight, Kara.” Lena said quietly, taking pity on the blonde, and beginning to back away.

“Lena-“ before she could think twice, the secretary took a step forward, pressing a warm kiss to the other woman’s cheek, her lips brushing the edge of the woman’s mouth. “See you soon?” She whispered, feeling Lena’s breath soft on her skin. 

“I’ll count on it.” Lena said, her voice sounding far away, as Kara disappeared inside. The masculine woman resisted the urge to fist pump the air as she turned to walk away, but allowed the beaming grin to stay on her face until she was nearly home.

Leaning against the closed front door of the lodging house, Kara sighed happily, closing her eyes and moving a hand to rest on her chest, where a torrent of pleasant emotions raged.

“Miss Danvers, I hope I don’t need to remind you that this is a house for respectable ladies.” Kara jumped, opening her eyes to see Mrs Katz glowering sourly at her through the gloom of the hallway. “I won’t tolerate any fast women here.”

Kara blinked. “No, of course not Mrs Katz.”

“Just you make sure that young man of yours knows.” The old woman waggled a finger. “Dropping you off at this hour, there’s only pimps and criminals out at this hour on a weeknight.”

“It’s 9 o’clock.” Kara said, bewildered.

“No fast women, Miss Danvers,” Mrs Katz repeated sternly. “And no gentleman callers.” She added before turning to disappear back into her own sitting room that resided next to the front door, the better to hear any late night creepers.

Kara watched her go, her happy mood wobbling on the familiar sea of confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an aside, Mrs Katz’s comments about “only pimps and criminals” being out at that time of night is a direct quote from my maternal grandfather to my dad, when dad had the audacity to drop my mum home later than her curfew one night in 1970...the mind boggles.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter contains homophobic slurs in the final part, so skip that bit if it’s going to bum you out (from “Lena didn’t sleep well” onwards).

Nia woke Lena up the next morning from the first peaceful slumber she’d had in weeks. The sunshine blazing round the blackout curtains suggested it was already midday, but it wasn’t until Lena stepped out into the apartment and into the light that she saw how worried Nia looked.

“What’s wrong?” Lena asked, concerned, stepping closer to the younger woman with arms outstretched, scanning for any sign of injury.

Nia swallowed, and moved to the left, revealing the television that Lena hadn’t registered. “Your brother...” she mumbled.

There, rendered in black and white, Lex Luthor filled the screen. Around him stood various men, women and children, all dressed in a textbook image of the white skinned, hard-working American’s Sunday best - chequered shirts with rolled up sleeves, cotton dresses below the knee, carefully combed and parted hair. Behind them hung a banner, that even without colour Lena knew would be red, white and blue; the banner read “Keep America American”.

_”Today, I am proud to stand before you and throw my hat into the ring for political office. I am proud to stand up and promise to fight for the traditional American values that we hold so dear, and that I have watched for too long be chipped away by elements of this city, this very city that we love.” _

Lena closed her eyes, knowing what was coming next. It was a speech she’d heard enough in her youth, around dinner tables and over chess boards.

_”Communists. Social delinquents. Dare I say it, sexual deviants. Those who would up-end the social order of things and drive our great nation to the brink of chaos.” _

Swallowing, the butch felt the long forgotten lump forming in her throat, the same that she would have to push down every time her family recited these words at her as a child. The same lump that would stop her speaking up, stop her arguing back, knowing that even if they weren’t aware, they were talking about their own daughter.

Except now it was different. Now, Lex did know. He was standing there, spouting his rhetoric and his thinly veiled threats, and all the while he knew he was talking about _her_, the little girl he had spent hours playing chess with, and who had made him laugh til his sides hurt.

_”Right now, under our very noses, they are cavorting in their dens of sin and deviancy, feeling secure because our own government is too feeble to do anything to stop them. Well I say no more! I say I will not allow these homosexuals, these perverts, these so called civil rights protestors to confuse and tempt our children into their warped lifestyles any more!”_

The crowd cheered. Lena’s eyes narrowed, staring at her brother’s face. This was the man who had taught her to ride a bike, and throw a punch; who had held her when she cried and told her that everything would be ok. Even though the face on the screen was Lex’s, there was no way to reconcile this hateful person with the man she had known, and that filled her with fear.

_”I will root them out tooth and nail. I will fight for the American way of life. I will make sure that these deviants and rabble rousers know that there is no place for them in our fair state. But I can’t fight this war alone! I need you, the people of National City, to join with me. Fight with me. Stand together as one, to keep American...American!”_

The crowd went nuts. The camera panned out. A song was playing, some sort of whip-em-up music that sounded a little too close to Star Spangled Banner to be a coincidence. Lena felt the terrible urge to put her foot through the television.

“Turn It off.” She whispered.

Nia sniffed, and rushed to comply, wringing her hands together as the image disappeared from the screen. An uncomfortable silence descended. “Not very original, was he?” The younger woman giggled awkwardly. 

Lena sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. She felt, suddenly, very tired. “They never are. I wonder if they don’t give these right wing nutters a phrase book, they all sound so similar.”

Nia laughed, and Lena managed to chuckle along, breaking some of the tension.

“What are we going to do, Lena?” Nia asked.

“Well, I’m going to put some trousers on, and make some coffee.” Lena said, moving towards the kitchen. “Then I’m going to make some calls about getting some security for the bar. I can see this riling people up, and I won’t take any chances with my customers safety.”

Nia frowned. “Do you think it’ll be bad?”

“I hope not,” Lena said honestly, hand on the door to her bedroom, “but Lex is very good at bending people to his will when he wants to, and I’m not willing to take the risk.”

Nia watched her boss retreat into the quiet gloom of the master bedroom, anxiety building in her stomach. There might have been nothing original in Lex Luthor’s speech, but it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

————————————-

“Can I get you a drink, Ms Willis?” Lena said, eyeing the woman currently trailing her finger critically over Lena’s juke box.

“Beer.” She answered, turning back to face the other women.

Leslie Willis was a thin, waif-like creature, with stark white skin and a blueish tint to her otherwise bone-coloured hair. Her biker jacket and cuffed jeans gave her the James Dean look that all the butches on the scene had been desperate to emulate a decade earlier, but the flowing hair and piercing eyes gave it a new, pleasant twist.

“Sam, could you grab Ms Willis a bottle for me please?” Sam nodded, rising from her seat at Lena’s side and fetching the beer. When she passed it to Leslie, the blonde held the bottle around the middle, trapping Sam’s fingers for a moment, a smirk on her lips. 

Sam rolled her eyes. “You can forget that, bub. You aren’t my type.”

“I’ll bet.” Leslie said with a chuckle, releasing her grip enough to let Sam pull her fingers free.

“Let me cut to the chase,” Lena interrupted before her bar manager could bite back, “I’m looking for muscle. You seem...lovely, but somewhat lacking in that department, if I can be honest.”

Leslie shrugged, looking unfazed. “That spiel your brother gave has got people antsy. There are a lot of bars paying a lot better than you, so if you want bulging biceps and a face only a mother could love, you need to up your price. Otherwise, you’re stuck with me.”

“My brother?” 

“Yeah, _your brother_. I know who you are, and I don’t care.” Leslie said, her voice clipped. “I need cash, and I’m good at what I do.”

Lena exhaled through her nose. Leslie wasn’t wrong. She’d been ringing round all day, and couldn’t find any of her usual bouncers, or even any of their recommendations, who hadn’t already been snapped up by every other gay and trans venue in the city. It seemed that the whole community was on edge over Lex’s call to arms, and she was, for once, late to the party. She thought longingly of the money she’d given to John, and the bank loan hanging over her head, tying her hands together.

“We open in three hours.” Sam whispered, easing into her chair. “I think we just need to go with it.”

“You think?” 

Sam tutted. “I don’t want to face tonight without anyone on the door, and we can’t afford not to open. I’d rather have Leslie than no-one.”

Lena nodded, chewing her lip. Over by the bar, Leslie finished her beer, smacking her lips and throwing the bottle into the trolley bin. 

“Ok, we’ll take you on a trial basis. $15 dollars a night, every night except Sunday. If it isn’t working out after a week...”

Leslie waved her hand dismissively. “Sure, sure. What time, Luthor?”

“We open at 7pm. Don’t be late, Ms Willis.”

“My professional name is Livewire.” Leslie said, swaggering towards the exit.

Lena blinked, slowly. “Your _professional_ name is Livewire?”

Livewire grinned, chucking over her shoulder as she left, “If you’re lucky you’ll see why later.” 

Sam sighed heavily. “I give her a night before I kill her. Maybe a night and a half if she stays outside.”

“We need her more than she needs us, unfortunately.” The butch rubbed a hand over her eyes wearily. “I could do without this.”

“Go, eat some food and have a rest. I’ve go to go pick Ruby up from school and take her to the sitter. I’ll be back to open up for 7.”

“Give her a hug from me?” Lena said, standing up wearily. Sam held out her arms.

“Only if you give me one first.” The hug was warm, and protective; Lena rarely let anyone hold her when they weren’t dancing or screwing, but Sam was more than a friend, or even a sister. They’d been through the fire together, and they both knew it. Whatever was to come, Lena never doubted she wouldn’t be facing it alone. 

——————————————-

“Boss, there’s a dude outside says he needs to see you.”

Lena looked up from where she was manhandling a barrel into place. Livewire was standing with one hand on the door, shouting over the din of the half-way packed bar.

Lena sighed, jamming the pump into the neck of the barrel, and grabbing her blazer from where it rested over the bar. It hadn’t been this busy since New Years Eve; the feeling of anxiety seemed to have spurred people’s need to be with the community, with people who saw them as human rather than deviant perverts, to use Lex’s words. 

Stepping out into the cool night air, adjusting her sleeves, Lena walked casually to where Livewire stood, her hand resting open-palmed on a man’s chest. He was about 6 feet tall, a good head higher than Leslie, and even under his thin shirt and jacket, Lena could see rippling muscles. His face was handsome, his skin the colour of coffee, and he looked at Lena with wide-eyed innocence.

“Can I help you, Mr...”

“Olsen, James Olsen.” James held his hand out, and Lena shook it, leaning closely to Livewire’s back to do so. The blonde hadn’t moved. “I heard you’re looking for security, and I’m here to offer my services.”

“I told him it’s chicks not dicks, and to scram.” Leslie said nonchalantly.

“Thank you, Livewire. As my associate so rustically said, Mr Olsen, we are a women only venue for the most part, and our staff is entirely female, so I’m not sure how you would fit into our team.”

The man frowned. “I’m not going to mince words with you. I’m not trying to rock the boat or suggesting you need a man about, none of that sexist crap. I just need work, and I heard you need a bouncer.”

“Do you have much experience as door staff?” Lena asked, appreciating the man’s honesty.

“Well, no. I’m a photographer.” James conceded. Leslie snorted, loudly. “But I’m handy in a fight, and I can be pretty intimidating when I want to be.”

Lena looked up and down the street. Women were still wandering towards the bar, some holding hands or with arms slung around each other protectively, and Lena knew that kind of thing could attract the wrong attention even on a good day. She remembered Sam’s words from that afternoon, and sighed. “Ok Mr Olsen, we’ll take you on temp. I won’t risk the safety of my staff or my patrons, so you best be on top form tonight. Any funny business and you’re gone.”

James looked ecstatic, and Lena wondered how long he had been out of work that the prospect of one night’s door keeping made him so happy. 

“Follow me, I’ll show you where you can leave your bag and I’ll get you a shirt to match Leslie’s. Not sure we’ll have anything that will fit but fingers crossed.”

Half an hour later, James was standing contentedly outside, next to a scowling Livewire; they hadn’t been able to find a black button up to match Leslie’s security uniform, but Lena had dug out her baggiest black t-shirt, which stretched tightly over the man’s upper body but, mercifully, fit.

“Hey, Lena.” 

Lena looked up from where she was pouring a pitcher of beer to see Kara, standing sheepishly by the open bar-gate, waving in a twinkly little motion that made Lena’s stomach flip. 

“Hi Kara, this is a nice surprise, I didn’t think you would be here tonight. I’m afraid we’re a little busy so it’s all hands on deck.” Lena said, smiling a toothy grin.

“I can see that.” Kara said, glancing at the crowd circling the bar. Both Nia and Sam were racing around pouring drinks and occasionally tripping over each other. “Can I help?” 

Lena wrinkled her nose as she topped off the pitcher. “Absolutely not, you’re a customer. You can go grab a seat and I’ll bring you and your sister a drink over when I get a sec.” Lena said, nodding at Alex who was loitering nearby, looking nervous. 

“Ok, thanks. I just wanted to let you know something. So it isn’t a shock. It’s just, you know I said I had a date tonight...” Kara pointed over her shoulder, frowning now. Lena looked at her expectantly.

“Lena, come on man, give me the damn beer!” Lena turned to scowl at the woman who had spoken, a burly looking woman with a quiff and a lurid paisley print shirt. 

“Mind your manners, Lou, or you can get your booze elsewhere.” The brunette said calmly, yanking the note out of the other woman’s hand and sliding the pitcher over the counter with two pint glasses. Lou blew her a cheeky kiss before disappearing through the crowd. When Lena looked up again, Kara was gone.

It was 45 minutes before there was a lull in business that allowed Lena to grab two glasses, one of Sam’s home made lemonade and another of lager, and hurry to find Kara and Alex. The thought of seeing the blonde again made Lena tunnel-visioned, spying the woman’s head at a small table near the washrooms, wedged between her sister and another butch, and seeing nothing else until she was standing next to her, tray in hand. “Sorry for the wait, you must be parched.” Lena said, beaming down at Kara. The smile faltered when she saw the other woman’s face.

“Wow, table service. I can see why you come here. Swanky.”

Lena’s green eyes snapped to the distinctly masculine voice she had heard speaking. The third occupant of the table was, she was surprised to see, not a butch at all, but a man of about Kara’s age - early 30s - and with the boyish goodlooks that greeted her daily from the side of her pomade tin. “I’m sorry, can I help you?” She asked, her voice sharper than she had intended.

“I’ll just grab a beer, thanks.” The man said, smiling politely.

“Mike, this isn’t the server. This is Lena, she’s...a friend of mine.” Kara said, placing a hand gently on the man’s wrist. Lena’s eyes narrowed at the action.

“Here’s your beer Alex.” She said, handing the glass over to the elder Danvers. Alex looked glum, but managed a small smile. “Maggie should be in shortly, when her shift finishes.” Lena said, hoping to cheer the woman up. Alex’s eyes went wide, and she took a chug of beer that half emptied the glass, mumbling something that may have been thanks. “Well, I should get back to the bar.” Lena said, feeling confused and annoyed and unsure why. “Come up to the bar when you’re ready to order, Mike.” She gritted our as she turned to leave, trying not to be petty in her unreasonable jealousy. 

“Can you come back later?” Kara asked, turning sharply in her seat as Lena walked away. 

“I’ll try.” Lena said, shrugging. 

At the bar, she threw down the tray and veered left, heading for the door. “Livewire, Olsen.” She snapped, still standing on the step to give her the height advantage. “Why is there a _man_ sat in my bar?”

Livewire blinked. “He was with a chick. You said men accompanied by chicks are ok.”

Lena scowled. She had said that; that had always been the policy at the bar, but it didn’t do anything to temper her annoyance. “Well if you can try to be more discerning about that, that would be appreciated. What am I paying you for? Jesus Christ.”

The two security staff watched the door as it slammed shut. After a moment, James whispered, “So, is it no guys at all now or...”

Leslie slapped him on the back, hard. “Who fuckin’ knows, Olsen? Just keep the wolves from the door and let the lesbian drama sort itself out.”

“Lesbian...drama?” He said, quietly.

“Lesbian drama. Now get back to work.” Livewire scowled playfully, pushing him away from her with a sharp shove to the shoulder. “Go patrol the street some, make sure there’s no scumbags loitering about.”

“I just wanted to take damn photos.” She heard him muttering as he walked away. “Lesbian _drama_.”

—————————————————

Kara had been excited, _beyond_ excited, when Alex had asked her to go to the bar again on Friday, after the butterfly-inducing moment she’d shared with Lena the night before. It hadn’t been much of a sacrifice for her to ask Mike if they could rearrange their date to the following week, using the excuse that she needed to be there for her sister, and surprisingly, Mike hadn’t seemed to mind. He hadn’t even questioned what kind of crisis Alex was having, and Kara skipped out of work that evening with a happy, carefree buzz in her stomach.

It wasn’t until she was standing outside the bar, her sister’s hand already pushing the front door, that she’d heard it.

Mike’s voice. 

Mike’s voice, right behind her. 

Mike’s voice, right behind her, at the lesbian bar she went to with her closeted lesbian sister.

“Surprise!” He’d laughed, holding out his hands as if expecting a hug. Kara froze, gawping at him. “I know you couldn’t come out tonight, but I thought I’d stop by anyway, just to make sure you were ok.”

“But...uh...I...” Kara stuttered.

“Well, I saw you and your sister leaving the house, all dressed up, and I thought how funny it would be if I followed you and surprised you at your destination!” Mike was still grinning, looking pleased, and Kara saw now his silver Galaxie parked across the street. She realised with a cold fright that she’d see it trailing them down the street from the bus stop, but in her enthusiasm she hadn’t paid it any attention. 

“Kara, What is Mike doing here?” Alex said, sounding annoyed.

“I...um...joining us, I guess?” Kara said, as Mike waved at her sister, stepping forwards to hold the door open for them.

“After you, ladies.” He said, waving them through. His hand rested on the small of Kara’s back as he stepped in after her, making Kara want to flinch away. The thought of seeing the handsome bar keeper again with Mike’s hands on her felt very wrong, although Kara wasn’t sure why.

She’d tried to tell Lena, tried to warn her, but the crowd clamouring for drinks had been rowdy and Kara hadn’t had chance. The look of confusion in the owner’s eyes when she’d seen Mike had made Kara want to scream, and to top it off, she was pretty sure that afterwards Lena had started avoiding her.

Mike hadn’t let either her or Alex buy a round, insisting on going to the bar himself and bringing them back glass after glass, most of which he had drunk himself. Alex seemed keen on staying sober, nursing one glass of lager while staring at the door, while Kara sipped the Babysham that Mike had pressed her to have and tried to ignore the hurt looks that Lena was shooting their way. She’d tried to grab the butch’s attention on her way to the bathroom, and had even twice pretended to use the jukebox to try and steal a moment with the woman, but it seemed whenever Kara rose from her seat, Lena was needed elsewhere. 

“I’m going to use the toilet, and then I’m going to get us another drink.” Mike slurred, pulling Kara sharply from her thoughts.

“No, no more drinks Monel!” Kara cried, hoping that using his Czech name would get through to him. “We’ve already missed our curfew!” The man waved her off before shambling away, apparently unfazed. 

“For fucks sake, Kara, what is he doing here?” Alex hissed as soon as he was out of earshot.

“I don’t know! I didn’t invite him!”

“It’s only a miracle that he’s drunk as a skunk or he might have cottoned on what this place is.” Alex continued, looking stressed. “I don’t think you want it getting out at work where you spend your Friday nights; I certainly don’t.”

Kara groaned. This was a train wreck. “Do you think he’s noticed?”

Alex glanced around; at the booth to their right, a couple were kissing passionately, toeing the line between PDA and public indecency. On the dance floor, the unanimously same sex couples swayed to some old Patsy Cline record, the non-platonic nature of their relationships evident in the closeness of their bodies.

“I don’t think so. He seems pretty wrapped up in you.” Alex huffed. “Look, lets just get out of here when he gets back. Mrs Katz is already going to be pissed, you know she puts the latch on at midnight, right?” Kara nodded glumly. Waking up their grumpy landlady to unlock the door was an experience no one wanted more than once.

“Danvers?”

“Hi, Maggie, uh...hi.” 

The latina smiled easily at the woman seated in front of her. “How are you?”

“Yeah, good. Just, you know, hanging out.” Alex said, nodding slowly.

“Hey, Maggie.” Kara said after a moment’s awkward silence, her tone cold.

“Yes, Kara, sorry. Nice to see you.” Maggie’s smile faltered slightly under the blonde’s withering gaze.

“Is it?”

Maggie blinked, opening her mouth to respond, when a booming voice interrupted them.

“Kara! Kara!”

The three women at the table, and half of the bar, turned as one. Mike was rushing back from the direction of the toilets, looking flushed, shock painted on his face; he bounced off a few other drinkers, knocking over a chair in his hurry. He flopped down into the free seat next to Kara, taking both her hands in his own clammy ones. From over his shoulder, Kara saw Lena appear, arms folded. She had one eyebrow raised, seeming frustrated.

“What, Mike?” Kara snapped. 

“You need to know something about this bar.” He said, talking slowly to emphasise each word. “This bar...it’s full...of...homosexuals, Kara!” He finished, staring into Kara’s eyes, waiting for her to react. “Homosexuals!” He said again, louder, when Kara didn’t respond. In her periphery vision, she saw Maggie’s mouth drop open; Alex dropped her head into one hand, the other slapping loudly onto the tabletop.

“Ok, I think you’ve had enough.” Lena said, placing a warning hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Time to head home, eh?”

Mike stood up, leaning heavily against the table. He squinted at Lena. “Are you one?”

Lena stuck her chin out, eyes defiant. “Yeah I am, is that a problem?”

Kara cringed in her seat. A small crowd had gathered around them, listening intently.

Mike wobbled a little, rubbing his chin with his forefinger as he thought. The bar was quiet, the sound of the melody playing the only noise. 

“Noooo...that’s ok. I like girls too.” Mike patted Lena’s shoulder, missing the first time. His brow furrowed. “I don’t have to be a homosexual, do I?”

“Ok, that’s enough of that, let’s get you a cab.” Lena said, tucking herself under his arm to hold his weight. Alex scrambled to do the same on his other side, so that they were dragging just the tips of his feet across the floor.

“I got me car.” Mike said happily, waving his car keys. Maggie gently lifted them from his fingers.

“Well you won’t be using them, bud.” The cop said, shaking her head. “I’ll drive you.”

“It’s fine, I’ll drive us. He can come collect his car in the morning.” Alex responded sharply as Maggie opened the Galaxie’s door, and they manhandled Mike into the back seat. “Thanks though.”

Before Maggie could answer, Alex was taking the keys and slipping into the drivers seat. The officer watched her go, then, with a sigh, jogged back to the bar.

“Lena, I...” Kara stood on the sidewalk, twisting her fingers together. She was horrified to feel sad, worried tears forming in her eyes.

“It’s ok, Kara.” The butch said softly, placing a hand on the woman’s bare bicep and using her thumb to rub soothing patterns on the tanned skin. “You go home, we can catch up another day.”

Lena watched the Ford pull off down the street. She could hear the drunk singing in the back, and felt a twang of empathy for the Danvers sisters who were driving him home. 

Walking back into the bar, Lena was gratified to see it had grown quieter. Couples were filing out, heads close together and hand in hand, and small groups were leaving in a flurry of banter, some to find more lively spots, and some to find their warm beds. Maggie sat at the lonely bar, sipping a brew.

“What was that about?” Lena asked, reaching over the woman to collect some abandoned glasses.

“Nothing.” Maggie said, swirling the amber liquid. “I think I pissed her off.”

Lena hummed. “What did you do?”

Maggie gestured at Nia for another drink. The girl hesitated, glancing at her watch. Lena nodded, and with a shrug, Nia went to pour it. “She asked me out.”

“On a date?”

“Must have been.” Maggie said as Nia handed her another beer. “I invited Sam, and now she’s acting all weird.”

Lena grimaced. “You invited Sam on your date?”

The cop sighed, letting her head fall into her hands on the bar. “I panicked. I just...pretended I didn’t know it was a date. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“You don’t fancy her?” Lena asked, surprised. She’d seen the way the two women looked at each other; it was a miracle they hadn’t already ripped each other’s clothes off.

Maggie lifted her head. “Of course I fancy her. Have you see her? She’s smart, and funny, and beautiful, and, good lord, she’s fucking fierce. But she’s...” the latina waved her hands in the air.

“New?” The butch said, empathy in her voice.

“Yeah. New.” Maggie sighed loudly, head thrown back. “How can I take someone through the most important and exciting period in their lives? You’ve seen my love life.” The woman made an explosion sound, throwing her hands out wide. “Plane crash, no survivors.”

Lena shook her head. “Maggie Sawyer, I never pegged you for a coward.”

“I’m not a coward. I’m just...”

“Scared. You’re scared you won’t be able to cope with someone fresh out of the closet, and all those needs and new experiences, and your scared you’ll fuck it up and break both your hearts.” Lena finished, hands on hip. “About right?”

Maggie swallowed. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

“You want to know something?” Maggie looked up expectantly. “You’re a good woman, Officer Sawyer. You’re kind, and clever, and loyal, even if you do have that wandering eye of yours,” Lena gave the woman a playful slap on the arm, “but if you’re telling yourself that you’re dodging your feelings for her benefit, you’re kidding yourself. You’re hurting her, and you’re hurting you, and you wouldn’t if you would just be brave.”

Maggie looked down at her beer, a frown on her pretty face. Lena tapped her shoulder as she walked away. “Think about it while you finish that drink. We’re closing.”

“Lena” Sam beckoned the owner over from the door to the offices. The look on Sam’s face caused Lena’s stomach to drop.

“What is it?” 

Sam nodded towards the Staff Only door. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Nia, watch the bar for me.” Lena called over her shoulder, already striding after her friend.

In the small, unused, windowless office that sat between the store room and fire escape, James and Leslie were standing, bracketing a woman who was perched on the desk in a tweed knee-length dress, stained with blood. Just inside the door, another woman was hovering nervously, holding a lace handkerchief stained pink. Lena recognised them vaguely as some of the local working girls; they came into the bar on occasion, but usually kept to themselves and never caused any trouble. 

“What’s happening?”

“Bastard hit me.” The woman with the split lip spat, scarlet bubbles dribbling down her chin. 

“Ok darlin’, this is going to sting but it needs to be done.” Livewire said, tipping a healthy measure of antiseptic into a clean rag, and wiping at the wound. The woman hissed.

“Who hit you?” Lena said, hands on hips.

“Some dealer. One of Edge’s little rats.” The woman near the door said. Sue, Lena thought her name was. “We were just coming in here for a drink before closing time, and he punched Marianne right in the face. Just walked up and bang, right in the mouth.”

“Did you see it?” Lena demanded, looking at Leslie.

“I saw it.” James said grimly. 

“We both saw it.” Livewire answered, using the dry end of the cloth to mop the last bits of blood from the Marianne’s face. “Little shit ran off. Got so far down the street before I could catch him, disappeared down an alley.” 

Lena sucked her teeth, beginning to pace in the small confines of the office. Pace - pace - turn. Pace - pace - turn.

“James, can you please get back out front? There’s still people leaving, I don’t want any trouble if that little bastard comes back.”

James nodded, heading back towards the bar. 

“There, all sorted. Don’t think you’ll need stitches, it was more blood than cut.” Leslie said, squeezing Marianne’s hand with surprising gentleness. 

The woman nodded. “Thanks Les. I was worried he might have loosened my teeth.”

Leslie chucked the woman softly under the chin. “Nah, just a bit of bruising, split lip, bit of a cut gum. We’ve all had worse. Take the rest of the night off though, I would.”

Marianne opened her mouth to protest. “You’re taking the rest of the night off, no arguments.” Sue interrupted. “I’m taking you home, and that’s that.”

“Livewire, fetch these ladies a stiff drink from the bar, on the house.” Lena nodded at the two women. “I’m sorry this happened, but I’m going to sort it. We’ll get you a cab once your ready, ok?”

Without waiting for a response, Lena walked back towards the bar, gesturing Sam to follow. 

“So what am I not being told.”

Sam glanced towards the bar, where Leslie was pouring two fingers of gin while a worried looking Nia fussed around Marianne and her companion. “Leslie says that the kid didn’t just knock and run. He shouted a message.”

“Tell me.” Lena said, eyes hard.

“He said...” Sam gulped. “Apparently, he said ‘this is a warning from Morgan Edge’.”

Lena exhaled. “Edge. What a fucking idiot.”

“What are we going to do?” Sam asked.

“Nothing, for the moment.” Lena responded. “Wait to see if this was a one off. I can’t afford a turf war Sam. I’m a businesswoman, not a mob boss.”

“And the mugger?” Sam asked, running her hand through her long brown hair.

“I’ll put the word out. I want to know who that little bastard was, give him a reminder that we don’t lay hands on women.” 

Over at the bar, Marianne had begun to cry. Maggie looked up from her place at the battered woman’s side, expression sombre. Lena crooked a finger to call the police woman over.

—————————————————

Lena didn’t sleep well. Her head was a crush of thoughts, and every time she closed her eyes she saw the drunk man grabbing Kara’s hands, or Marianne with her bloody mouth, worrying about her teeth. The sun came up at 6:30 and found her seated at the kitchen table, trying to jimmy the coil from an alternator with a flat head screwdriver. 

It was while doing this that she heard the scratching. It was coming from downstairs, in the street. Lena continued working, cursing whoever was making such a weird noise at that time in the morning. The coil had burnt out, and was proving difficult to remove, having partway melted to the casing, but it was an imported part and if she could replace the coil, she could save the guy who’d given it to her a wedge of money.

At the sudden sound of breaking glass and cheering, both alternator and screwdriver hit the table.

“Lena!” Nia screamed, wrenching the door of her bedroom open. The women stared at each other, frozen. Nia was in her tartan pyjamas, hair a mess from sleep, and Lena would have been embarrassed that she was in her white boxer briefs and an old, worn out t-shirt, if it wasn’t for the fear and anger she felt bubbling in her chest.

Another crash sounded from downstairs. 

“Fuck!” Lena yelled, reaching to grab the claw hammer she kept in her tool box, and taking off down the stairs into the bar, bare footed. She scrabbled with her keys at the bar’s main entrance, hearing the sound of men guffawing louder now. Wrenching the door open, she stepped into the street and narrowly avoided being hit by an empty bottle.

Stumbling out, hammer raised, she appraised the situation. Four men, all apparently in their teens, dressed casually but with scarves covering their lower mouths. Two had beer bottles in their hands; the glass from the others’ was lying around the floor, foam dripping down the outer walls of the bar. They laughed when they saw her, although less so when she took a faint swing at the man standing nearest.

“Well boys, there you have it - chief queer.” One said, chuckling.

“Get the _fuck_ away from my property before I wrap this hammer round your thick heads.” Lena growled, swaying on the spot, hammer clenched in both hands.

The men laughed. One stepped closer, just outside of swinging distance. She saw it was the man who had spoken before, presumably the ring leader. His hair was platinum blonde, his eyes blue and full of malice. “You listen to me, faggot.” He said, his voice strangely calm. “You might feel safe in your den of sin and deviancy, but enjoy it while you can. We’re in charge now, and we’re going to clear you and your sick friends out of this city.”

“I’ve been threatened by bigger and scarier men than you, you little fuck. Get the hell out of here before I do something we both regret.” Lena said, eyes unwavering.

The man laughed. “Big words for a big ol’ dyke. Come on boys, we made our point.”

“We’ll be back, queer.” Another called as they sauntered back to their car, unhurried, and drove away. Lena noted the number plate, feeling a pang of annoyance that they hadn’t even bothered to disguise it.

“Oh Lena.” Nia said, distraught, but when Lena turned, the younger woman wasn’t even looking at her. She was looking at the bar, or more specifically, at the writing written on the off-white walls in red paint.

“You’d think, after all these years, they’d have thought up some better insults.” Lena sighed, dropping the hammer on the floor and slumping into a seated position, careful to avoid the broken glass.

There, in four foot high letters, was the word “QUEERS”. Around it, less prominent but still an eye sore, other slurs had been daubed, and a barely legible quote that she nevertheless recognised: _ den of sin and deviency_. That’s what the man had called The Angel, and Lena knew straight away where she’d heard that before: Lex’s hateful speech.

‘I’m going to need a bigger hammer.’ Lena thought, feeling empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Lena and Kara finally have an actual grown up talk like proper functioning adults.


	6. Chapter 6

Kara hadn’t had the nerve to go back to the bar after the night her boyfriend got drunk and made a scene. 

_Boyfriend_. It sounded strange, and not in a good way, but that was how Mike had been describing them at work and to their few mutual friends - boyfriend and girlfriend. Kara had gone along with it because what else could she do? Everyone seemed very pleased for them, and there were words people used for women who spent too much time with unattached men. She didn’t want anyone to think she was easy or that she’d led Monel along. Afterall, wasn’t that what every woman wanted? A steady boyfriend who took her out to nice places and didn’t push _too_ hard to get into her knickers?

For some reason though, the word filled her with dread, and something akin to guilt. She’d let him kiss her a couple of times, feigning every sign of pleasure, while each time she’d managed to zone out, imagining another mouth on hers, and picturing someone else’s hands rubbing hopefully over her bra in the back of a parked car. Imagining, if she were honest, an entirely different car, filled with the spicy scent of a familiar aftershave, and soft, feminine lips instead of her boyfriend’s hard, enthusiastic ones.

It had been over 3 weeks since she’d been to The Angel, or seen the estranged Luthor, and Alex had given up asking if Kara wanted to come out with her. She was out right now, although Kara wasn’t sure where. The older woman had made friends with Maggie again, and they seemed to be joined at the hip, although Alex was adamant that it was entirely platonic.

It was 7pm on a Sunday, and the house was quiet save the sound of the grandfather clock on the landing ticking and the occasional creak of the floorboards as the other guests ambled back and forth in their own rooms. The paperback resting half finished in Kara’s lap was the book she’d seen Lena reading on her first trip to the Angel, _Beebo Brinker_, and Kara had spent a lot of time staring into space while reading it. It had been hard to find, and handed over covered in brown paper, like a secret gift. She wondered if Lena had finished the book yet; wondered if Lena would discuss it with her. Read it to her, maybe, in that soft voice that made Kara’s heart skip. The thought made pink blossom in her cheeks.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs shook her out of her revery. Sitting up, she opened the drawer in the bedside table, ready to hide the offending material if her door started to open.

In the end, she didn’t get chance to react when the door slammed open, knocking into the chest of drawers behind it so hard that a framed photo of Eliza and Alex fell over. In her fright, Kara flung the novel at the intruder, where it hit the doorframe and bounced away.

“Kara!” The figure in the doorway cried in a stage whisper, shuffling quickly inside and closing the door.

Kara gaped. “Monel?”

Mike giggled, and flopped onto the single bed. He pressed his finger into his lips in a shushing motion.

“What are you doing?” Kara asked, horror overtaking her shock. “You can’t be in here!”

“I know you aren’t meant to have men in your room, but I wanted to see you.” Mike said, oblivious to the growing fear in Kara’s eyes. “No one will even know I’m here.”

Kara breathed in, ready to give the man a piece of her mind, when she caught the stench. “You’ve been drinking.” She said, her voice resigned.

Mike shrugged. “I had a few beers with the boys at the game, and I wanted to see you.”

The blonde sighed in exasperation, rubbing her temples. This wasn’t the first time Mike had tried to talk himself into her lodgings, but it was the first time he had actually been stupid enough to do it. It was a miracle with the racket he’d made that Mrs Katz wasn’t already beating the door down with an eviction notice and, knowing the landlady as Kara did, some holy water. 

“You can’t be here, Monel. If you get caught, I’ll lose my position.” Kara said sternly, rising to her feet and reaching for the man’s hand, making to pull him off the bed. Monel grinned teasingly, grabbing Kara suddenly and pulling her down on top of him. Kara squeaked, squirming, which only served to make Monel laugh more.

“Stop, Mike, you have to _go_.” Kara hissed, pushing herself upwards. Mike hummed in response, but didn’t release his grip. His eyes were full of adoration, and for a second Kara’s resolve wilted, melting in the face of so much want. It was enough to allow the man to pull her closer again, so that her hair fell in a sheet around them. She could feel his breath on her lips, and closed her eyes, knowing what was coming next.

She felt him murmur against her mouth, “are you kidding? I’ve wanted to get you all to myself behind closed doors for weeks. Kara, I lo-“

“I knew it!”

Kara and Mike turned to the door as one. Standing on the threshold, a mix of rage and triumph covering her features, stood Mrs Katz. Over her shoulder, some of the other lodgers hovered, looking worried.

“You little hussy!”

Kara opened her mouth to argue, to apologise or maybe to beg, but then she looked down and saw that she was still straddling Mike, his hands at her hips and her own bracketing his shoulders as if holding him down, their faces perilously close to each other. There was no denying how it looked, and in that moment, Kara knew she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of the punishment that was coming.

“I told you,” the old lady pointed a shaking, vengeful finger, “I told you I won’t have any fast women in this house!”

Kara groaned, climbing off her boyfriend’s frozen form, and sitting down on the side of the bed, feeling numb. 

“I want you out of this house, ms Danvers, within the hour.” Over Mrs Katz shoulder, the other women gasped. 

“Mrs Katz please,” Kara said, tears welling up in her eyes, “I have nowhere to go.”

“You should have thought of that before you started bringing strange men here at all hours of the night and day. I’m sure you can go with one of your...your...fancy men, or whatever cat house will have you. Not under my roof. I’m going to call my sons if you aren’t gone by 8, and they’ll throw you out if they have to.” With that, the landlady strode away; after a moment, Kara heard the sound of her sitting room door slamming shut like the fall of an axe.

“Kara, I-“

“Save it, Mike. Just go, will you?”

Monel reached to put his hand on Kara’s, but the woman snatched it away. “I can drive you to mine, it’s not a problem.”

Kara stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “I’m not going anywhere with you, let alone getting in a car with you when you reek like a brewery.” 

“Kara-“ he began, looking genuinely apologetic, his hair falling forwards into his eyes like a little boy who has been caught stealing.

“No. Get _out_ Mike. I don’t want to see you tonight, or for the rest of the week if I can help it. I’ll sort this out myself.”

“I believe she asked you to leave.” Kara looked up to see Becky, her next door neighbour say, in a voice that broked no argument, her dainty arms folded across her chest. She was 5 foot 2, and her blonde hair was curled into rollers on top of her head, but she looked in that moment like a woman ready to go to war. Joan stepped behind her, glaring. “Scram, before we drag you out ourselves.” The redhead said, gesturing to the door.

Mouth agape, Mike looked to Kara for defence. Seeing none, he huffed, held up his hands, and slunk out. As soon as he was gone, Becky leapt to Kara’s side. “I’m so sorry Kara. Maybe we can talk to Katz? Make her change her mind.”

Kara shook her head, sniffling as the tears began to fall. “She won’t change her mind. She never has before.”

The bed dipped as Joan sat down. “What are you going to do?”

“I...I’m not sure.” An image of knowing green eyes and a sympathetic smile crossed her mind. “Actually, could you tell Alex that I’m going to see Lena? She won’t be back til later, I don’t want her to worry.”

Joan smiled fondly, rubbing her friend’s back soothingly. “Sure thing, kid. We’ll help you pack and get you a cab wherever you want to go.”

Kara sniffed, managing a weak smile. “Thanks, girls.”

“It could happen to any of us.” Becky said, pursing her lips. “Here, you dropped your book.”

Kara frowned down at the paperback; on the front, Beebo looked back at her, suitcase in hand, and Kara sent up a silent prayer that just maybe, if things could work out for Beebo Brinker in pulp fiction fantasy land, things would turn out ok for her too. 

——————————————-

The sound of stomping feet echoed around the bar, beating time to the scratchy sounds of The Blue Danube that was playing from an elderly portable record player.

They hadn’t opened on Sundays since the bar’s inception, but in the light of recent events Sam has suggested some community events that didn’t involve booze, and, seeing no harm, Lena had agreed. They had offered Self Defence classes in the afternoon, and dance classes in the evening, and Lena had been tickled to find out that both classes were being taught by the same person, a blonde-haired, skinny, bi woman called Sara who had turned up in knee high leather tassel heels, and promptly kicked the head off a plastic practice dummy.

Lena herself was watching from the bar, nursing an orange juice; she’d learned to dance formally before she was old enough to ride a bike, and when she’d finally accepted her butch identity, it hadn’t been much of a stretch to change from Follower to Leader. She wondered, though, if she might not ask the sultry teacher for a spin once the lesson ended, just to keep her hand in.

It had been three weeks since she’d seen Kara, and she’d realised that the woman was probably not coming back. Alex was still a regular, turning up most nights to banter with and pine after Maggie Sawyer, but her sister was no longer in tow. The previous evening, Lena had finally sucked down her pride enough to ask after the blonde, and had been disappointed to hear that she was spending all her free time with her boyfriend. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. She had no right to feel jealousy, or wounded; the woman was a friend - barely even an acquaintance, really, and if she wanted to spend time with Mike rather than in a dingy bar surrounded by women who loved women, then Lena had no right to an opinion on that. Rationally, Lena knew all of this. It didn’t stop the painful clench of her heart whenever she thought about it, though. 

Behind her, the door bell sounded. They’d had it installed after the incident with the graffiti, not keen to let anyone in without prior approval when James and Leslie were off shift. There’d been more graffiti every few days, but no further confrontation other than a few drive-by cussings. No one had said as much, but the relative peace was making them all uneasy.

Pulling back the grate, Lena peered out, to be greeted by watery blue eyes. 

“Lena?” A small, broken voice asked. 

“Come in, Kara. Here, let me help you with that.” Lena said, scrabbling to open the door and stepping out into the cold evening air to heave one of the blonde’s two suitcases inside.

It wasn’t until they were inside, under the bright house lights, and Lena had locked the door behind them, that she saw that the secretary was pale and shaking, her cheeks stained as though she’d been crying. Stepping close and holding out a calming hand, although not letting it connect, Lena smiled softly. “Kara, love, what’s wrong?”

Kara’s bottom lip wobbled, and Lena felt her heart break a little in response. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go.” 

“You’re safe here. Come, let’s go upstairs and you can tell me all about it, ok?” Kara nodded, and Lena bent to pick up her baggage. “Sara, I’m just going to the flat for a bit. Call if you need me.” 

As soon as they were inside Lena’s apartment, Kara found herself settled onto a comfortable, pristine sofa, a coarse woollen throw draped over her shoulders, while the butch woman bustled around the small kitchen preparing a pot of tea. Kara looked around blearily, taking in the calming neutral tones and the minimalist furniture that matched so closely with what she had expected.

“Here.” Lena said, pushing a steaming mug of well-sugared English breakfast tea into her hands. On the coffee table, she placed a plate of biscuits. 

“Thank you.” Kara said, staring down at the beige liquid. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

Lena waved her hand, sitting down on the other end of the settee. “You aren’t intruding. I’m glad you thought to come here when you needed help.”

Kara smiled wanly, shaking her head. “That’s one way to put it. My landlady kicked me out, and I’ve got literally no where to go.”

“What happened?”

“You remember Mike?” Lena nodded, trying not to scowl. “Well, he turned up at my place, drunk, and tried to sneak into my room. Not very successfully.”

“They kicked you out for that?” Lena asked, surprised.

Kara shrugged. “My landlady is old fashioned. She forbids any men in the upstairs of the house, needs us home by a certain time, and if we stay out without giving her at least 48 hours notice, god help us.”

“That’s absurd. It’s 1963, Kara, and you’re a grown woman. That sounds more like a reformatory than a boarding house. Why didn’t you just get an apartment?”

The blonde shrugged again, weaker this time. “I think our mom was terrified of us going to the big city. Alex was kind of a wild child when she was younger, and I’m not too good with being alone, so she organised for us to go to Mrs Katz’s where we couldn’t get into any trouble. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful by trying to rock the boat.”

“I see.” Lena said, not wanting to push it but desperate to dig deeper into that statement. “Didn’t your...didn’t Mike offer you to stay?”

“He did but I didn’t want to.” Kara said, eyes welling up again. “I’m pretty mad at him, and he might get the wrong idea if I went home with him.”

Lena nodded knowingly, leaning her elbows on her knees. “You don’t like him like that?”

“I mean, he’s my boyfriend.” Kara said, as though that explained it all. Lena looked blank. “I like him fine, I just don’t want him to think I’m easy or that I...want to go all he way.”

“Don’t you?” Lena asked before she could stop herself. Kara grimaced, wrinkling her nose.

“I mean, I enjoy his company when he’s sober. He’s usually so nice, and respectful. I just, I don’t think women really get _those_ feelings do we? I’m not quite ready to, uh, grin and bear it yet.”

There was silence from the other woman, and when Kara looked up, the butch was staring at her open mouthed.

“What?” Kara asked, feeling self conscious.

“Kara,” The brunette said slowly, “when you’re with someone you like you don’t have to grin and bear it. Sex isn’t something you owe anyone, or something you have to endure. It’s something to be experienced and enjoyed by two consenting people. When you find someone you want that with, its...well, its hard to describe but it’s like a fire. An irresistible urge, that you should both feel.”

“It is?” Kara asked, her mind flashing back to the book in her purse.

“Well,” Lena grinned cheekily, “both or all of you, depending on the number of participants.”

The blush when it came was almost puce. 

“I-uh-I haven’t really...felt that. Before.” Kara stuttered. “Well, I mean, not with Mike.”

“Kara,” Lena asked carefully, “I don’t mean to pry, but why are you with Mike? You don’t seem very fond of him, if I’m honest.”

“We have similar histories. He makes me laugh. He’s got a good job, and everyone keeps telling me what a bright future he has. And he likes me, like, a lot.” Kara said, holding her cup between her knees so that she could tick off points on her fingers. “If I have to be with someone, he’s a good choice. And Eve from admin told me that he’s really good in bed, which is probably important.”

Lena was looking at her like she was talking in a foreign language, and Kara scanned the last few seconds to ensure that she hadn’t inadvertently fallen back into German. 

“Kara, you don’t _have_ to be with anyone you don’t want to be with, you know that right? All of that is great, but the only reason to be with someone is because you like them romantically.”

“But...I mean, everyone else does it.” Kara said, confused. “They meet someone, they date, get married, have a family. I don’t want to be the odd one out.”

“Why?” Lena asked, getting to her feet and moving to sit on the sturdy coffee table so that she could look Kara in the eye. There was no judgement in her voice.

“I...” Kara hesitated. “Lena, I’m Jewish, did you know that?” Without waiting for a response, she continued. “Until 1939, I lived in Berlin with my parents, and seeing the way things were going, they managed to get me on the kindertransport out of Germany. I was lucky. None of my family survived the war. But I was in Britain for four years, this skinny little kid who didn’t speak a word of English and who didn’t understand the customs or the traditions. The families who looked after me helped as best they could, but they didn’t really understand what we’d been through, not then. I was just getting settled when I was sent to America and it started all over again. Not fitting in, in the war...it was hard. People viewed me like I was a...an alien or something. My parents were dead, my whole world was gone, I was living with strangers in a place where I wasn’t even wanted...I don’t want that again. I just want to be normal, and do normal things, like everyone else. I want to fit in.”

Lena let out a loud breath. “I’m so sorry you went through that Kara. It must have been...I can’t even imagine how hard it must have been for you.”

“It’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it, mostly.” Swallowing down a sudden image of her mother’s face, Kara repeated, “But I just want to fit in now. I’m too tired to go through that again, and Mike helps me to do that. He was another kindertransport kid - he understands, and that means something.”

“I can understand that.” Lena said, running her fingers through her hair and then absent mindedly wiping the pomade from her fingers onto her slacks. “But you know, sometimes fitting in is harder than just being who we are. You don’t need to force yourself into something with Mike because you think you need a boyfriend to blend in, or because you think no one else will be able to accept what you went through. Maybe Mike is just not the right guy for you. Maybe you’re better on your own, or maybe you want something...else...” Lena trailed off.

Kara watched a blush of her own bloom on the butch’s face, unexpectedly. It made something in her crow. “Have you ever been in love?” She wasn’t sure what made her ask the question, and as soon as it was out, she wanted to stuff it back in, afraid of the answer.

Lena chuckled, surprised at the change in topic. “Once or twice.”

“Who with?” Kara asked, feeling the familiar flutter of envy in her chest.

“Well, there’s been a few people through the years I thought I could love, but I was head over heels with my first girlfriend, and that somewhat dented my appetite.” Lena said, her voice turning bitter.

“What happened?” Kara’s eyes widened. “You don’t need to tell me, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Kara, its ok. I don’t mind.” Lena sat back down, reaching to squeeze the other woman’s hand. “She was older than me by a few years. Veronica Sinclair. She was beautiful, and flirtatious, and absolutely wild. We met at school, and she talked me into doing some crazy, exciting things, and eventually, we fell into bed together. I thought we were going to be in love forever. She was the first girl I’d ever kissed, and the first...Well. You know.” Kara swallowed; nodded. “I was smitten with her. And then one day, we were in bed together while my family were out of town, and...my brother caught us. He’d come home early, and found us right in the middle of making love. It was horrific. He did the typical Luthor thing and offered her money to disappear, and she took it. Didn’t even look back, or hesitate. I’m still not entirely sure that she hadn’t planned the whole thing.”

Kara’s eyes shone with sorrow. “That’s awful.”

Lena snorted. “It broke my heart. My brother told me I was an embarrassment, that I was already humiliating them by insisting on dressing how I do, and that if my _perversion_ ever got out, I’d destroy his business and his political aspirations overnight. He told my mother, and she gave me the whole speech all over again. Told me I could change my ways, or the family would turn their back on me. And then they gave me a fifteen thousand dollars to stay away from them, and kicked me out.”

“But you...” Kara breathed in. “You didn’t change.”

“I didn’t. It isn’t always easier to just blend in Kara. I refuse to sacrifice my happiness to make my life easier.”

“I wish I could be as brave as you.” Kara said quietly, looking down at her hands. As she watched, pale, slender fingers settled over her own, the thumbs rubbing circles on the back of her hands. She looked up into the green eyes that she knew, if she was honest with herself, she’d been fantasising about for the past 2 months.

“You are brave Kara. You are incredibly brave. I have no idea how your still standing after everything you’ve been through. There’s nothing wrong with being scared, but don’t let that fear eat your happiness up. You deserve to be happy, love, and I’ll help you achieve that however I can.”

The two women sat in silence, the air around them crackling with unsaid words. Kara eased herself forwards, breathing in the scent she’d been dreaming of. Wordlessly, Lena opened her arms, and wrapped them around her friend’s petite frame. Sinking into the warmth, Kara realised with a start that for the first time since she was a child, she felt safe. “Lena...” she whispered.

“Sorry to interrupt, guys.” The two women broke apart to see Nia standing by the front door, looking sheepish. “Kara, your sister is downstairs, and she’s asking for you.”

Lena smiled, a little tightly, and drew away from Kara, before standing and straightening her clothes. Kara followed the motion as she retucked her shirt into her suit pants. “Nia, could you bring Alex up please? Kara has had a rather stressful day. I hope it’s ok, but she is going to be staying with us for a while.” Kara jumped, opening her mouth to protest, and Lena continued, her eyes watching the blonde, “if she wants to.”

Kara didn’t even think about it when she accepted, gratefully, knowing that regardless of what she was feeling for the butch woman, she wanted more of it. The thought of heading out into the cold street alone again was nothing compared to the thought of leaving Lena’s circle of warmth. 

It wasn’t until later, as she snuggled into clean sheets that smelt like Lena’s washing soap, in Lena’s own bed in Lena’s own room that the woman had insisted on giving up for Kara’s use, that she thought about what the masculine woman had said. Maybe being brave wouldn’t be so hard this time round, if she had Lena to support her through it. Maybe they could overcome their fears together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor old Mon-El, yet again thrown under the narrative bus for the good of Supercorp.
> 
> Seriously though guys, I recognise that this has veered quite far away from my “keeping it light” promise, but I hope you’re enjoying it as much as I am.


	7. Chapter 7

James had always loved the act of taking photographs. He loved the process of it, the feeling of taking a moment and preserving it as though in ice; most of all he loved the permanence of it. His father had given him his first camera before the old soldier passed away, and it had sparked so much joy for the young boy even in that terrible time that everyone who knew him had agreed: Jimmy Olsen would be the next big thing in photography.

It had come as a shock, then, when he got to National City and found his options blocked at nearly every turn because of the colour of his skin.

Oh, they’d usually give other excuses; the other guy was more experienced, or the pictures didn’t quite capture whatever the hell they wanted it to, but it was a thin veil to the truth. He’d sold a few pictures to some independent magazines, and covered a few weddings and christenings, but by and large, every door he actually wanted to walk through was slammed in his face.

And National City was expensive; covering the odd family celebration for $20 a pop meant that all too often he’d gone to bed hungry and frustrated, wondering if the next day would bring the moment his landlord’s patience ran out. When he heard that some bar was looking for security and he was down to his last dollar fifty, he hadn’t hesitated to head over and chance his arm. 

It had been an unexpected surprise what a gold mine the job was for a budding photographer. The butches, femmes, studs, tomboys, the lesbians and bi women, and everyone in between; a secret society governed by its own traditions and rituals, its own politics and self-policing, operating right under the noses of the outside world. The photos he had taken, with the approval of the women who visited the bar, were a patchwork quilt of colour. It nearly broke his heart that they would have to be hidden, at least for the time being.

“Why do you do it?” Sam asked, polishing a stout tap as she watched James take a sly photo of Lena teaching Kara play chess.

It was early on a Friday; the bar would be in full swing soon, but for now the drips and drabs drifting through the door were barely enough to keep Leslie entertained, and he’d been released to ‘play photography’, as Livewire had said with characteristic sarcasm.

“It’s important.” James answered, adjusting the focus carefully to allow him to capture the way Kara’s cheeks tinted as Lena made a flirtatious joke, knocking over the blonde’s king.

“But no one will see them. You said so yourself, it’s too risky to sell them or exhibit them.” Sam insisted. She’d spent a few hours now talking to the gentle giant of a man, and had come to appreciate his thoughtful conversation. 

James shrugged. “It isn’t about that. What we’re doing here, what we’re part of...it’s important. This community isn’t going to stay this way forever. These women, they’ll drift away and be replaced by others, the rules of the game will change, and it will be lost. We should document what we have now in every way we can, even if no one ever sees it until we’re all dead and buried.”

“Cheerful.” Sam said jokingly, although in her eyes, something warm flashed before sinking below the surface. “You really think it’s important?”

“It is.” The man insisted firmly. “You might think you’re just a bar like any other bar, but really it’s like a...a tribe. This place is its own little island in the middle of the stormy sea, untouched by the outside world. We’re like the lost tribe clinging to the safety of its shores, and one day, when people pull their head out of their asses, we won’t be lost anymore. And then this,” he gestured round the room, “well, it won’t mean as much.”

“But it’ll still exist. And we’ll still be a tribe in here.” Sam tapped her head with her index finger, before leaning over the bar to gently touch the casing of James’ camera. As she did so, the v-neck of her blouse dipped low, giving the photographer a glimpse of black lace. He swallowed. “And it’ll exist in there, too.”

“Hey, lovebirds, pack it in. James, you’re needed.” Livewire said, strutting towards the bar with a solemn look on her face.

“Trouble?” James asked, getting to his feet and tucking the camera safely under the bar. Behind him, Sam cleared her throat and straightened her back, the moment they had shared quickly forgotten.

“Yeah, you could say that.” The blonde scowled. “That little sket from the other week is back, and he’s brought some friends.”

As if summoned, the door to the bar swung open and in walked the sket in question, a grin plastered on his handsome face. After him piled in four others, all wearing the same childish smirk. They carried an assortment of weapons, from bats to metal bars.

“Hello, queers.” The leader said, venom dripping from his mouth. He was a gangly youth of about 20, with a shaved head and a thick, fur-lined flannel jacket, the expensive kind that rich kids brought to seem more down to earth. The other men were younger, baby-faced teenagers hardly out of school, if they’d ever been, and their clothes lacked the quality or the price tag of their chief’s. “I heard you were looking for me.”

“I was looking for you.” Lena said, attention fully on the man as she scraped her chair back and rose, hands nonchalantly in pockets. “It’s good of you to walk right into my bar. Saves me some trouble. I mean, it makes you a fucking idiot, but I still appreciate the sentiment.”

“Fuck you.” The man snarled.

“Oh no, fuck _you_.” The butch said mildly, as she sauntered slowly over to the bar, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. Sam, seemingly equally unconcerned, handed her the crow bar. “You’re the fucking coward who beats up lone, vulnerable women, and while I’ve heard that it wasn’t on your own account, I’m still going to have to teach you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry.”

The man’s grin faltered slightly as he felt more than saw the room around him shift. Women were getting to their feet. From somewhere about her person, Leslie had found a set of knuckle dusters that she was sliding on, a grin on her face. Next to her, James had removed his coat, rolling out his shoulders. But more worrying was the rag tag collection of women that were slowly stepping forwards out of the gloom of the bar, eyes fixed on the dealers and pimps and small time crooks who had invaded their sanctuary. The boys pulled closer together, looking nervous, like sheep dogs who have found the ewes ready to fight back.

The leader’s eyes went back to the owner. The calm, almost welcoming smile on her face hadn’t faltered. “You lads,” she said, gesturing with the metal rod in her hand, “had better fuck off.”

There was a moment of tension, the circle around the men closing slower than treacle, before they turned and ran. A hand closed on the ringleader’s coat, yanking him back and throwing him to the floor. “Not you, Mr Lockwood.” Lena said, stepping over the young man looking up at her, her eyes shining and that damn smile still in place. She pressed the end of the crowbar gently into his Adam’s apple. “Oh, that’s right. Did you think I wouldn’t find out who you were? Well, I know who you are, George. Your father is Ben Lockwood, and I wonder how he would feel knowing his precious son is running around with druggies and prostitutes? Wasting the opportunity of a college education and pretending to be a big man on the streets. I bet his little nazi head would explode.”

“Screw you. Morgan is going to have your ass.” George hissed, leaning forward and spitting up. The drool fell down his chin, and Lena chuckled.

“No, I don’t think he will. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to rough you up. I’m going to bruise that pretty face of yours, just like you did to Marianne, and then I’m going to take a knee, for the trouble I’ve been to digging into your pathetic life over the last few weeks.”

The man stuck his chin out, going to speak, but didn’t get the chance to utter a word before Lena’s fist struck him square in the face. The sound of his nose breaking was loud in the bar, thirty other people holding their breath.

“I hadn’t finished, George. Don’t be rude.” Lena said sweetly, shaking out her hand. On the floor, George began to snivel. “Now, as I said, I’m going to need a knee from you George, to teach you a lesson. You still owe me that. And then you are going to go limping back to Morgan Edge, and you’re going to tell him I want a meeting, here, tomorrow. You better tell those little friends of yours to stay away too, until that meeting has been concluded. Otherwise I’ll take the other leg. Do you understand?”

The man sobbed louder, fat tears rolling down his face. Lena watched, feeling her insides boiling with empathy. She had to remind herself that this man was a woman beater and a homophobe, that he sold heroin to addicts and vulnerable kids, and didn’t much care what they did with it. Her heart kept trying to override her brain, seeing only the snivelling man who was barely more than a boy rather than the violent criminal who would have beaten her senseless if he had had the chance.

“I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes’.” Lena said, before she pulled her arm back swiftly, the crow bar catching in the lamplight.

“Lena...please...don’t do this...”

Looking up, Lena locked eyes with Kara, and her hand stilled in its path. The blonde was crying, her blue eyes shiny with tears, and her arms hung limp at her sides. She was looking at the butch as if looking at a monster, and it broke Lena’s heart.

That hesitation was all it took for George Lockwood to find his feet, and with a vicious shove that nearly felled the Luthor, he made the door and disappeared into the night with Livewire in pursuit.

“Let him go!” Lena shouted, dropping the crowbar onto the parquet and putting her hands on her knees in the hopes of getting her breath back. The shove had winded her, but not as much as the terror in Kara Danvers’s eyes. “Well ladies, they can say what they want about us but they’ll never say dykes can’t hold their own.” A chuckle went up round the room, breaking some of the tension. “Sam, Nia - a drink for everyone, on the house.”

Moving away from the bar as a cheer went up, Lena moved cautiously to Kara’s side. The woman still looked shaken up, and was staring at the door as though George might come bursting back in any moment. Honestly, Lena wasn’t sure he wouldn’t, but she’d faced off against men like George Lockwood for most of her adult life. He was probably whinging to Morgan Edge already, exaggerating the encounter so no-one knew he was beaten by a woman. Now, if it had been the man’s father... Lena shuddered.

“Kara, are you ok?” The butch asked, keeping her voice soft and not moving to touch the shaking woman, frightened that she might bolt.

Kara took a deep, juddering breath. “You were going to _cripple_ that boy.”

“I wasn’t. I mean, yeah I was going to hurt him, but it wouldn’t have been anything permanent.” Lena said, brow furrowing. 

“I...I’ve never seen that side of you Lena.” The blonde said, wiping her at her red eyes. A vein in her forehead was throbbing. “I never thought you could be so...so...violent.”

“Were you scared of me?” Lena asked, genuinely surprised. Kara hesitated for a moment before nodding sharply. “Kara, that _boy_ as you call him attacked one of my customers a few weeks ago. She was just walking down the road and he punched her hard enough to split her lip. He sells drugs, and I don’t mean he sells a bit of hash here or there. I mean he sells the drugs that people get addicted to and die using. He isn’t a good person.”

“But you didn’t have to attack him.” Kara said, frustration sounding through her fear.

“Would you rather I let him attack me instead?” Lena said, equally annoyed, her voice an emphatic whisper, conscious suddenly that some of her patrons were turning to look at them. “Because if I hadn’t intervened, that’s what would have happened. They’d have attacked me, or Sam, or one of the others. Or you. I’m not going looking for trouble, but I’m not going to apologise for defending myself and the people I care about. I’m not going to lie down and let it happen. I thought you would understand that.”

“I do understand and I’m not asking you to. I’m just...scared, Lena.” Tears welled up once more in Kara’s eyes, and this time, Lena stepped closer, her arms open in question. Without a hesitation, the secretary stepped into the embrace, sniffing. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry Kara. I’m sorry for alarming you. But you need to understand that this is part of my life. Some people see this, see _me_, and their only instinct is to attack.”

“They’re assholes.” Kara mumbled, burying her face into her friend’s lithe neck, so that when the chuckle came she felt rather than heard it.

“They are that. But trust me when I tell you that I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe. To keep all of us safe.”

“I do trust that. I trust you.” 

Lena felt a little of the stress of the past half an hour leech from her at those words. Pulling Kara away from her body, she couldn’t resist pressing a firm kiss to the woman’s forehead, pleased that she seemed to have understood and forgiven Lena’s actions. “Do you want a drink?”

Kara smiled shyly, feeling embarrassed at making a scene. “I think I could manage something a little stronger tonight.”

Lena winked. “How about a spritzer? I’ll mix it for you myself.” With a nod, Kara watched as the brunette swaggered away, all trace of the tenderness she had shown Kara vanishing like mist as she slapped another butch on the back, roaring out a laugh at something the other had said.

“She’s something, your woman.” Turning to see who had spoken, Kara was surprised to find Sara Lance looking at her with a smirk. She hadn’t talked to the dancing teacher much, bar an occasional ‘hello’ in passing. She recalled a night in the week when she had found her waltzing round the bar’s small dance floor, held tightly in Lena’s arms after the bar had closed; Kara hadn’t felt it her place to interrupt, instead scurrying back upstairs, her stomach in knots, and feeling strangely relieved when Lena returned alone minutes later. It had put a dampener on her desire to befriend the enigmatic blonde other than to size up the competition, although competition for what, she couldn’t bring herself to say. Oblivious, Sara continued, “She’s a tough nut to crack, and believe me I’ve tried.”

Kara opened her mouth to correct the blonde grinning at her teasingly, to confirm that Lena was just a friend, but when the words came out of her mouth, all she managed was a possessive sounding, “She is something indeed, you don’t need to tell me that.”

Sara laughed, a bright tinkling sound, and, leaning in close enough that Kara could smell her flowery perfume, whispered, “You don’t have anything to worry about, babe. She knocked me back. She’s only got eyes for you.”

Kara watched the woman walk away, hands in the back pockets of her painted-on jeans and a sway in her hips that drew more than a few casual glances. 

“Here, one much-needed stiffener.” Kara blinked down at the glass pressed into her hand. Lena was smiling at her with tender eyes, a small glass of amber liquid in her own. “Cheers.”

As the glasses clinked together, Kara couldn’t help but wonder whether Sara was speaking true, and if so, whether her own confusing feelings towards the youngest Luthor were quite as noticeable.

—————————————————-

The next morning dawned clear and cool, the air drifting through the window smelling like autumn in the city. Kara stretched, feeling her bones click. There had been no further trouble the night before, and at midnight, as Lena turned around the closing sign, Jo Davenport had some scurrying up advising in a hushed growl that Morgan Edge would see her first thing in the morning.

Kara wasn’t sure what to expect. She still felt horror at the thought of what Lena would have done to George Lockwood if she hadn’t stepped in; even if she knew he deserved it, the thought of that brutality made her feel sick, especially when handed out by Lena, who, Kara knew, would carry the guilt of it around for far longer than she should.

The clock on the side table read 8:45, and Kara shot up. Morgan Edge would be arriving at 9. 

In the living room, Maggie, Alex and Sam were leaning against various walls, while Nia fussed, straightening Lena’s kipper tie as the butch tried to flap her away. Kara stopped dead in her tracks. By now she was used to Lena dressing smartly; used to the suits and ties that she wore of an evening, and the pleated slacks and soft cotton shirts she wore on a lazy Sunday. What she hadn’t quite anticipated was the sight of Lena Luthor in a three piece suit.

It was navy, and single breasted, a red rose tucked into the button hole. The shirt she’d chosen was white linen, starched to perfection, and the blood-red necktie vanished into a fitted waistcoat of the same suit material, with a shining silver watch chain handing across her toned stomach. Polished brown oxfords, the colour of coffee, finished the ensemble, and it took a moment for Kara to realise that she’d been staring, open-mouthed, for longer than was appropriate.

“This is a bad idea, boss.” Maggie said, her face lined with worry. 

“You shouldn’t have come here, Sawyer.” Lena responded, sounding tired. “Edge doesn’t take well to cops at the best of times.”

“You can’t go in their alone.” Maggie said as though she hadn’t heard.

Lena sighed, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a cigarette. Lighting it, she took a soothing drag, blowing it over her shoulder so that the smoke didn’t go into Nia’s face. “You can’t protect me from everything, Maggie.”

“She isn’t going alone.” Nia said, jutting out her chin. Lena rolled her eyes fondly, chucking the younger woman under the chin.

“I’ll be fine. We’re going to have a chat, drink some coffee, and sort this mess out, just me and Mr Edge. Man to man.” 

“I’ll go with you.” The room turned to look at where Kara stood, hands on her hips. “He doesn’t know me, and I’m not exactly threatening. I’ll go just to make sure there’s no funny business.” 

“Love, that’s very sweet, but you’re not even dressed.” Lena said, glancing down at Kara’s old fashioned white night dress. “I don’t want you anywhere near him, if I can help it. Any of you. Just, stay up here, ok? If I need back up, I’ll yell.”

Sam stepped up to her best friend, lips pursed, running a hand down the woman’s lapels before allowing her brown eyes to meet Lena’s green. “You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders, Lena. We all have your back, ok?”

Lena bowed her head. When she spoke, it came out as a whisper that the other women had to strain to hear. “It’s for us Sam, all of us. I won’t let them take what we’ve worked so damn hard to build.” 

“I know. I know.” Sam gulped, her hands still clutching the material of the suit jacket. “You and me against the world though, kid, no matter what. Don’t go being a martyr, right?”

“Always.” Lena leant forward, her forehead resting lightly against Sam’s. Kara felt oddly intrusive, standing there in the crowded living room in her dowdy nightie, watching two friends promise ‘forever’.

A knock came at the door, followed by Leslie’s slow drawl. “Ms Luthor? Morgan Edge is here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hands up, who wishes she’d taken the little bastard’s knees? *Tomboy raises her hand*
> 
> For those of you who’ve asked in the past, I’ve finally succumbed and joined Tumblr; you can find me at Tomboy13-fanfic.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam had done a good job, Lena thought as she surveyed the bar discretely. A table with two chairs had been placed in the very centre of the dance floor, the only light in the dark room coming from the spotlights above the tiny stage, illuminating the scene like a stage play. On the table sat 2 cups, and a sleek metal coffee pot, kept warm over a flickering tee light. The ashtray in the centre was ebony, a single silver lighter resting next to it. Lena instantly knew it would appeal to Morgan Edge’s sense of theatrics. Hell, it appealed to Lena’s; she felt, as she strode through the door that Livewire held open, like a gangster in a film noir. A voice in the back of her mind treacherously queried whether she was the hero or the villain. 

Morgan stood in the doorway, his face hidden by the darkness and his back uplift by the sunlight shining through the front door. Behind him, two bulky men stood, one either side. A third figure was hanging from the mobster’s arm, a feminine looking woman dressed more for a night at the opera than a business meeting in a figure hugging red ball gown. Lena couldn’t see her face, but the sight made her nervous.

“Morgan, good of you to come.” She said, loud and confident, her hand outstretched. The man stepped forwards, dragging the woman at his elbow with him, and gave the hand a delicate squeeze.

He was a greasy looking man in his mid-forties, with slick salt and pepper hair and hard brown eyes that barely blinked. He wore a huge, fur-lined coat that was much to warm for the mild California autumn, and a black trilby with a silk band, confirming Lena’s suspicion that the Al Capone staging would sucker him in.

“Lena, always a pleasure. I must say I wasn’t surprised you finally caved, after speaking to Mr Lockwood.” The woman on his arm giggled, wobbling slightly on her too high heels.

“We have a lot to discuss, and I always think it’s better to have these difficult conversations face to face.” Lena answered pleasantly, not rising to the bait. “Please, have a seat. Shall I fetch a chair for your...friend?”

Morgan snapped his fingers, and pointed to a nearby table. The woman tottered off, slumping onto a stool. “No need, she’s well trained.”

Lena gritted her teeth, gesturing the man towards the table with a sweep of her hand. Over his shoulder, she saw his goons begin to shamble forwards. “May I suggest your colleagues step out for the duration? A show of faith on both sides is probably a good place to start.” Without allowing Morgan time to respond, the bar keeper continued, “Leslie, can you wait outside with them? We are not to be disturbed, if you and Mr Edge’s associates can ensure that for us.”

Morgan stared at the woman in front of him, his snake-like eyes unwavering. Then he waved a hand, and the two lumbering men by the door exited. Livewire smirked, giving a mock salute to her boss, and sauntered after them.

“So,” The man said, sitting down, “let’s cut to the chase shall we?”

Lena raised an eyebrow, sinking into the other available chair and busing herself with pouring the coffee. Opposite her, Edge began rapping the tips of his fingers on the table, irritated at being ignored.

When both cups were full, Lena slid one across the table and sat back, legs loosely crossed. “George Lockwood attacked one of my customers. He seemed to think it was on your orders.”

The man looked theatrically shocked. “If only I’d known!”

Lena smiled slowly, soothingly. “Of course. I didn’t believe you would be involved in such a low down deed.” She took a sip of coffee, licking her lips afterwards. “But you know now, and it can’t be ignored. I want him punished.”

“You already punished him.” Morgan responded quickly. “I saw his face.”

“Morgan.” The butch smiled. “You know as well as I do, that was little more than a...physical warning. He hurt one of my people, outside my venue. He lied about your involvement. I want him _punished_.”

“Lena, Lena, Lena, you’ve made things very difficult for me.” 

“How so?”

Edge narrowed his eyes. “You say George attacked one of yours. Well, George is one of mine. He has a certain standing in my circle. The woman he allegedly assaulted was no more than a worthless hooker. It was bad enough when you were just refusing my protection, now you’re openly defying me. My people see that. I can’t just let this one slide, Lena.”

“I don’t want a war with you, Morgan.” Lena said, heaving a bored sigh. “I don’t think you really want one with me.”

“You think you’re safe because you surround yourself with queers and freaks. Do you think they’ll still stand by you when the bullets start firing?”

Lena shrugged nonchalantly. “Do you want to find out?”

The air crackled with unspent tension. Lena fought the urge to look away or swallow against her suddenly dry mouth. She had never been a gambler, but she’d been left without a choice.

“Women,” Morgan broke the silence with a snort, “even dressed up in men’s clothes, you’re all so melodramatic.”

Lena chose not to respond, her face impartial and her gaze not leaving the man’s face. After a few seconds, the mobster huffed, and continued, “Fine. Heres my offer. I want what you have always refused. I want access to your bar, and your clientele.”

“No.” The butch answered immediately.

“My people will come in as required, and will be freely allowed to sell as they see fit.” Morgan continued as though Lena hadn’t spoken. “In exchange, I will waive the usual fee, Lockwood will be relocated to another area in the city, and you have my personal guarantee that there will be no repercussions for you, The Angel, or any of your staff and customers. Add to that...5%.”

“No.” Lena said again, irritation in her voice. She felt the desperate need for a cigarette to calm her nerves, the lighter in front of her taunting. She knew if she looked away, gave any sign of being human, Morgan would leap on it.

“Lena, I’m trying to be reasonable with you. I know you can be emotive, but see it from my perspective. You give me access, and I can go back to my people and the other gang leaders and say I’m the man who finally broke you down. Tell them how it was a big hoo-hah but now the great Lena Luthor is under my wing. Otherwise, tomorrow, I’ll be forced to come back with some of my guys, and they’ll smash up this bar and anyone they find inside it. I’ll do it the day after too, and the day after that, until either the bar is gone, or it’s mine completely. You’ll fight back, I’m sure - lives will be lost, the business will be driven down, and we both lose. Neither of us want that, Lena.”

Lena sucked her teeth. She knew he was right, and she knew he knew it. “I don’t want a cut of your filthy money, Morgan, and I won’t have them selling brown.”

Morgan grinned, throwing back his coffee and smacking his lips. “Done.”

Lena held her hand out, and the man shook it, putting in more force than necessary. Lena kept the pain out of her face on principle.

“Good. Now that’s done, I have a treat for you.” Morgan snapped his fingers. The woman in the red dress shambled forwards, rounding the table and draping herself into Lena’s lap. “I know you like this sort of thing.”

Lena frowned. She couldn’t tell if it was a genuine attempt at bribery or a slur, but she felt insulted either way. “You needn’t have.”

Morgan smirked, reaching into his inside pocket and extracting a fat, dark cigar, that he placed pointedly on the table in front of his new associate. “Lena, you should learn to enjoy yourself. This deal could be the start of a whole new life for you. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

Lena watched him retreat. The strange woman began pressing wet kisses into the owner’s neck, hands creeping beneath the suit jacket. “Stop that.” She said, holding the woman away from her body with both hands. 

“Boss?” Leslie asked, stepping into the bar with a confused face.

Lena rose to her feet, transferring the prostitute still squirming in her grip into the empty seat. “Livewire, can you bring the others down here please? We have a change of situation.”

———————————————-———-

“You have got to be fucking kidding me right now.” Sam barked, her face washed with scorn.

Lena furrowed her brow, frustration creeping into her tone as she glanced towards the bar where their unexpected guest sat, twirling a lick of brown hair and spinning on a tall stool in boredom. “Will you lower your voice? I don’t want to do this, Sam, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“There is always a choice, Lena.” 

The butch threw her hands in the air. “Yes, there is. Either we give way on this, or it escalates. I’ve got no money left, we’ve got no real protection, and the city are just begging for an excuse to close us down. If it comes to it, we’ll lose, and more likely than not Morgan Edge will just swan in and take what he wants anyway. At least this way we can keep some control.”

“We always swore we’d never do this. We’ve seen worse than a few skirmishes.” Sam tried again, hands on hips.

“We have.” Lena agreed with a sigh. “But that was then. This is now. I’m already dealing with the fallout from Lex’s speech. I don’t have the resources or the energy to fight Edge too.”

“I think you’ve picked the wrong battle to give up on.” Sam said sourly. “You knew what you were getting into when you decided to open a queer bar. I never thought I’d see you hand it over to the...the..._wolves_.”

Lena narrowed her eyes, lips a thin line. “I know more than anyone the risks that go with being _queer_, Sam. I’m doing what needs to be done. Anyone who doesn’t like it, you know where the door is.”

Next to Sam, Livewire held up her hands in a surrender sign. “I don’t give a shit either way.”

“I trust you, Lena.” Nia said with a comforting smile. 

“Ok, well, y’all can do what you want.” Sam said, looking at her friends like they were crazy. “I’m going to pick my daughter up.”

“Are you coming back?” Lena reluctantly called after her as the older woman marched towards the exit.

Sam gave her the finger without even turning her head.

“What does that mean?” Nia asked, wrinkling her nose.

“That means ‘yes’.” Lena said, barely stifling a grin in relief. “Right, next things next. Siobhan?”

Siobhan jumped down from her stool and ambled across the floor, swaying her hips seductively. When she reached the butch, she instantly melted into her side, arms slipping around Lena’s waist. Lena rolled her eyes. “Nia, can you start setting up for tonight? Me and my acquaintance here are going upstairs for a bit.”

“What?” 

Lena turned her head at the voice. Kara was standing towards the back of the group, a deep frown on her face. She’d been lurking there for the duration of the conversation, feeling almost as dismayed as Sam but unwilling to pile any more pressure onto the youngest Luthor with her opinions. Realising the owner was intending on taking up the ‘gift’ that Morgan Edge had given her to seal the deal, however, had allowed the blonde to find her voice 

“It’s ok, Kara, we won’t be long.” 

“Charming.” Siobhan quipped, a teasing smirk on her face. Kara glared.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Siobhan tittered. Lena blinked rapidly, looking suddenly out of her depth. “I...uh. No. That’s ok.” 

Kara watched the two women walk away and disappear up the stairs to the flat above the bar, her insides boiling with angry jealousy. 

———————————-———————-

Sam returned an hour and a half later, feeling calmed by the time she had spent with her daughter. As she walked Ruby back from school and they ate dinner together, the anger she had initially felt towards her best friend had dissipated into frustration at the situation. She knew better than anyone what the bar meant to Lena. She’d seen the hours that the woman had put into making the enterprise a successful business and a safe space for the local lesbian population, and knew that opening her doors to the petty crooks who preyed on the vulnerable would be eating the Luthor up inside. It was the best they could do now to make the most of the situation, and prevent further abuses or infringements, and to do that, Lena would need the full support of those who cared for her.

“Hey, you came back. Leslie wasn’t a sure you would.” James said with a warm smile as Sam approached the main entrance to the building.

“I’ve known Lena since we were kids. We bicker like an old married couple, but we always come back to each other.” Sam shrugged, sweeping her hair to one side, the bangles on her wrist tinkling.

James placed a friendly hand on her shoulder, warm through the cheesecloth of her loose blouse. “I’m glad you did.”

The bar manager blushed, and, ducking her head, dipped inside. Samantha Arias was typically a strident and self-confident woman, and it was embarrassing how quickly her unexpected crush on the newest bouncer was making her act like a school girl. The butterflies in her stomach brought back uncomfortable memories of the last time she found herself falling for someone, and the train crash that followed. It had given her her little girl, though, and for that she was grateful, but feeling the familiar brush of romance was making unwelcome anxiety spark in her stomach.

Inside, Kara was already seated at the bar, scowling into her coke. Nia grinned widely when she saw Sam, and with a pointed glance at the blonde and roll of her eyes, the girl walked away, wiping at the taps as she went.

“What’s wrong with your face?” Sam asked, leaning on the bar. 

“Nothing.” Kara pouted. 

“Seems like it.” Sam agreed solemnly. “Is Lena about?”

Kara harrumphed. “She’s upstairs with that _woman_.”

“What woman?”

“The...”, Kara lowered her voice to a whisper, “prostitute that Morgan Edge brought with him. Siobhan.” Kara slumped further into her seat. Sam’s brow crinkled in confusion, and then she started to laugh, great guffaws that built into her belly and erupted unladylike from her throat. “It’s not funny!” Kara protested. Sam, doubled over with her hands on her knees, laughed harder.

“Oh Kara,” Sam said when she composed herself, wiping a tear from her eye, “do you really think that Lena is the sort of person to use women like that?”

“Siobhan didn’t seem to mind being used.” Kara said, sniffing. “And Lena seemed pretty keen.”

“Listen, Lena Luthor is my closest and fondest friend.” Sam responded, her voice growing stern. “I know how the world sees women like her, but trust me when I tell you she’s kind, and loyal, and sensitive, though few people seem to give her credit for any of that. She has her demons, but she loves women. And I do mean love. She treats them with the kind of respect and dignity that too much of this world refuses to, _especially_ the women she invites into her bed. She gives working women the time of day because she knows they’re just like the rest of us, trying to make ends meet, but she would never buy their bodies like they’re some toy to be used and thrown away.”

“I didn’t mean-“ Kara began, before Sam held her hand up to silence the rebuttal.

“She cares about you a great deal, but I’ve seen her be wrong about people before.” Sam wagged her finger. “If you want to know what happened, talk to her. Don’t sit there, jumping to conclusions without giving her chance to defend herself.” With that, Sam rapped on the wooden bar top and headed towards the offices, waving to Nia as she passed.

Kara watched the woman’s retreating back, mouth open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morgan Edge is about as subtle as a claw hammer. A sexist, prejudiced, unscrupulous claw hammer.
> 
> Next week: things go from good to better for Alex; things go from bad to worse for just about everyone else.


	9. Chapter 9

“Will you go to dinner with me?”

Maggie will cringe, when she thinks back on that moment in the future, how she just blurted the question out in the middle of Poetry night at the bar, a few drinks loosening her tongue. In her defence, it had been building up inside of her since the night they manhandled Kara’s boyfriend out; every lingering look, every touch of hands as they played darts or walked down the street, had kindled the smouldering desire to just _ask her out_, until finally, unthinkingly, she’d snapped. Alex had looked startled, but quickly schooled her face into a mask of nonchalance.

“Sure,” she said, “I could eat.” 

The cop frowned a little; she knew she deserved that distrust, knew she deserved a brush off for how she’d reacted when Alex had first expressed an interest. But it still set a twinge of hurt in her rib cage, just above her left breast. “No, I mean like, _dinner_.”

Alex swallowed, glancing around nervously as if searching for an answer hidden among the furniture. On stage, a middle aged trans man called Abrar was crooning through a rambling free verse about a mescaline induced fantasy; he was struggling to find a rhyme for “purple”. No one was paying the couple sat in the third row of hastily assembled chairs any attention.

“You mean...just you and me?” Maggie nodded. Alex swallowed again. “Just you and me, going to dinner...”

“I’m asking you on a date, Danvers.” 

“Oh. Well, uh...”

Maggie’s smile faltered, her confidence slipping. “Hey I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to. No pressure.”

“No. I mean, yes.” Alex said hurriedly. “I’d like to go on a date with you. Just name the place and time.”

Which had led, a few day’s later, to Maggie standing outside Bernard’s Bar and Grill, wondering why she felt anxious about a girl for the first time since she kissed Maive O’Connor in 9th grade. She’d even ironed her smartest pair of chinos and a crisp, white shirt, open at the neck. Maggie was, she would happily admit, a greaser; her clothes were essentially variations on the blue jeans and leather jacket theme popular among the rock and roll dykes she preferred to spend her time with. It had come as a shock to find herself voluntarily picking out the clothes she reserved for court appearances in an unbidden desire to impress her date. It had even been a struggle to resist buying some flowers from the little stall outside her apartment, and she was feeling distinctly off kilter.

“Wow, Officer Sawyer, you scrub up well.” Maggie looked up at the sound of Alex’s voice, and nearly swallowed her tongue. The elder Danvers was wearing a sleeveless scarlet fitted dress, tied at the waist with a matching belt, that ended just above her knee. The scooped neck was topped with lace that gave an enticing view of clavicle. 

“I could say the same about you.” The older woman sighed, eyes still roaming. “I never expected to see you in a dress. Not of your own accord anyway.”

Alex blushed slightly, and bit her lip. “Truth be told, it only comes out for weddings and bar mitzvah’s, but I wanted to make an effort.”

“Well you look amazing.” They stood for a moment, blushing at each other in the middle of the rain stained street, until a hurrying pedestrian jostled Maggie in passing, and they agreed to go inside.

The restaurant wasn’t anything special, really - it just edged over the top-end of Maggie’s low-bar budget, but the food was good, the waiters wore ties, and the solid wood tables were arranged with shiny silver cutlery and two kinds of sparkling crystal glasses. Alex remarked shyly how nice the place was, preening the cop’s ego, and as they were shown to their table, Maggie placed a guiding hand on the small of her date’s back, feeling smug as she saw more than one married man’s eyes watch her companion glide across the floor. 

When they were seated and had ordered a bottle of the house wine, an awkward silence descended. It was unexpected; in all their time of hanging out, they’d rarely struggled to find something to say - work, the gossip of the scene, whatever movie was showing that week, it had always flowed freely. It was surprising enough that it caught Maggie unawares, and for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Instead, she began awkwardly playing with the butter knife, glancing at her table mate every few seconds and smiling sheepishly.

“What made you change your mind?” Alex asked suddenly, her face open and carrying no judgement.

“I...” Maggie gulped. “A very clever woman made me realise I was being an idiot.”

Alex smiled. “Well, yes, you were. But you’re going to need to give me more than that.”

Maggie sighed, shaking her head. “I thought that I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to give you what you deserve. That I couldn’t devote myself to you in the way a first timer needs. But a friend helped me realise that it wasn’t because of any of that that I turned you down, when I desperately wanted to say yes.”

“What was it, then?” 

Maggie took a big breath, and pointedly placed the knife on the table with a _click_. Carefully, slowly, as one might approach an injured animal, she placed her hand over Alex’s, feeling relief when the other woman didn’t pull away. “I was scared.”

“Of me?” Alex asked, her voice a whisper. Their heads had moved involuntarily close together, breath and perfume mingling to make a dizzy, oxygen-less atmosphere in their own private bubble, the rest of the world forgotten.

“Of how I feel about you.” Maggie murmured. “I really like you, Danvers.”

“I like you-“

Behind them, came a loud clearing of a male throat, ushering in the the chatter and clattering cutlery of the large, public dining room once more. Moving apart, both women turned to face the intruder. The waiter, his hands clasped in front of his chest, looked both embarrassed and annoyed.

“Yes?” Maggie asked sweetly.

“Ladies, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. This is a respectable restaurant, and there are families here.”

“Oh good.” Maggie grinned, taking Alex’s hand. “Because we are two respectable ladies. We’d hate to think we were somewhere...” she lowered her voice conspiratorially, “licentious.” 

The man looked unimpressed. “M’am, please leave without making a fuss.”

“Don’t worry, we were going.” Alex said, unexpectedly loud, dragging Maggie to her feet. Around them, people began surreptitiously turning their heads to hear better. “I wouldn’t be caught dead eating somewhere that allows bigots to serve its food.”

“And the wine is totally overpriced! You can get it for a dollar fifty at the store on fifth!” Maggie called over her shoulder as she was pulled across the floor and out of the front door.

As soon as the door closed behind them, both women started giggling, and, flooded suddenly with endorphins, they ran, hand in hand, not caring about their destination, bumping into strangers and shrieking with laughter. 

“That was crazy.” Alex gasped eventually, breath heaving as she dragged Maggie into a lee between a late night grocery store and an Irish themed bar. 

“You’re kind of wild, Danvers.” Maggie laughed, pulling the woman against her; her body was warm and pliant under the modern crimplene dress, their hips slotting easily together, faces almost touching. “I kind of like it.”

The kiss that followed was sweet and firm, and altogether more romantic than any act deserved to be in the dingy mouth of an alley that stank of piss and rotting litter. “Come back to mine?” Maggie whispered against Alex’s lips, feeling the nod of agreement more than seeing it in the half light. 

“I’ve never done this before. Be gentle with me.” Alex muttered, pulling away.

_Be gentle with me, Alex Danvers_, Maggie hoped, as she followed.

———————————————————————

When Kara had finally gotten up the nerve to walk up the stairs to the flat, Siobhan had been gone, and Lena had been fiddling with one of her projects, her fancy suit exchanged for a once-white undershirt that smelt like oil, and an old pair of corduroy trousers, patched at the knee. Kara had been ready to talk it through, calmly, like Sam suggested. Had been ready to accept whatever Lena told her, to preserve the peace of their new living arrangements, and her own sanity.

But then Lena had looked up with the bright, hopeful smile she seemed to reserve for Kara, and offered to show her how a transistor radio worked, and Kara, for all her bluster, had completely chickened out.

That had been almost a week ago, and the time had never felt right to bring the topic up again. Not during dinner the same night, when Nia tried to cook curry (none of them had ever had curry; Kara wasn’t sure it should be grass green); not the next day, when Lena quietly invited her for a walk by the quays and they spent all morning talking about nothing; certainly not on Wednesday, when James helped Lena manoeuvre a second-hand single bed up the steep stairs and into the living room, to spare Kara the discomfort of sleeping on the lumpy couch again. It just was never the right time to say, “hey Lena, I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but did you fuck that prostitute the local crime lord offered you?”.

Now it was Friday, the bar was packed, and it was too late. Kara sat on a tall stool sipping an orange juice, tucked to one side of the bar so that she could still see her friends work but wouldn’t interrupt the drinks queue. Every now and then, as she fixed a drink from the bottles nearest that side of the bar, Lena would throw her a wink and a smile, or, made special in its rarity, reach over and squeeze Kara’s pliant hand. Each time, butterflies started in her lower stomach, along with a spark of pride that the women around them would see and know that Kara was special to the owner.

She was so enamoured, intently watching the brunette show Nia how to mix a gin gimlet, that she didn’t feel the presence at her shoulder until there was a masculine cough that sent hot air racing down her neck.

“Mike?” 

Monel had the good decency to look ashamed, shoulders slung low and an apologetic frown on his brow. He was wearing his best shirt, a cream linen with frills down the front and a wide collar, open at the neck so that a little chest hair poked through, and for a moment, Kara felt the fierce urge to run away.

“Hi Kara. I hope it’s ok we’re here. I just really wanted to see you, away from the office. I was hoping we could talk?” He asked in a hopeful, childlike voice.

“We?” Kara asked, completely ignoring his question to buy herself more time.

“Allow me to introduce myself.” The man standing at Mike’s shoulder said with dramatic flair. “My name is Karl Docks, but my friends call me Brainy.”

“On account of him being a real bookworm.” Mike added helpfully.

“I see.” Kara said, taking in Brainy’s slight stature and neat varsity cardigan.

“You ok, Kara?” Kara looked up into Lena’s concerned face, feeling calmed by the warmth of the other woman’s expression. 

“Yes, I’m ok.” Kara answered in a mild voice. Lena nodded, giving her friend a small smile, before a mask of hardness fell and she turned her ire on the men standing awkwardly in front of her.

“Sorry gents, this is a women-only venue.” 

Monel looked puzzled. “I was here a few weeks ago and you let me stay then.”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Well, that was then. This is now. I’m asking you to leave, politely, or I’ll have to have someone escort you, impolitely.”

Mike looked angry, and Kara could see with complete clarity this turning into a scene. The last thing the bar needed after the tumult of the last month was another male led drama, not when she’d heard Sam and Lena worrying over the drop in sales earlier that very afternoon. The secretary swallowed her own needs, her own desire to fall gratefully under Lena’s protection, to let her chase off Monel and preserve their little bubble; instead she leaned across the bar to rub her fingers over Lena’s forearms where they crossed over her chest, her sleeves rolled up to expose warm skin. “Please Lena. Let them stay for a while. I’ll vouch for them.”

Monel grinned hugely, relief slipping across his face. Kara hardly saw, though, because at the same moment, Lena’s expression changed too. She looked, just for a few seconds, like she’d been slapped. Then her face dragged itself back behind the familiar mask and she looked, at worst, mildly disappointed. She took a step back, leaving Kara’s outstretched hand cold and hanging dumbly in the air.

“Fine. But a single shred of trouble from either of you and your barred. You,” she jabbed a finger at Mike, “are on a two drink limit.” And without another word, she strode away, leaving Kara to watch her retreat miserably.

In her place, Nia appeared. “What can I get you fellas to drink?”

“Beer for me. Brainy?” Mike asked. After a second of silence, he turned to his friend and said, louder, “Brainy?”

The short man was staring at the tender, his mouth open. Under the intense scrutiny, Nia started to fidget.

Mike elbowed him unsubtly in the ribs, and he swallowed drily. “I-uh-just-uh.”

“Do you want to try that sentence again?” Nia asked kindly.

“Vodka lemonade.” Brainy managed, his cheeks pink. “Please.”

“What is wrong with you?” Mike asked, sounding annoyed. At his side, Kara just smirked.

———————————————————————

Lena would be the first to admit, if pushed, that she wasn’t terribly in tune with her own emotions. Years of repressing them, manipulating them, and minimising them in the face of the world’s aggressions meant that she couldn’t always take her own emotive responses at face value. It had led her to be somewhat introspective, and both judgemental and analytical of her own thoughtscape. 

That being said, she didn’t need to do much digging to recognise that it was the bitter surge of jealousy that was making her want to stride across the bar and knock Mike Matthews on his pretty-boy ass. She’d felt jealousy before, albeit rarely over friends or lovers; what made this harder to admit was that it was completely unfounded. 

Since she had met the sunny blonde, there had been a feeling of connection that she tried hard to ignore. Little touches and glances, warm words, and a comfortable kinship - that was all they had shared. Lena had no right to expect a monopoly over Kara’s affections, or even to expect reciprocation of the blossoming crush that Lena was trying hard to square away. It didn’t make it any easier to see Monel worming his way back in though, his muscular arm draped over the back of Kara’s chair, his other hand resting on her naked knee.

Him and his friend were the only men in the bar. 7 days earlier, that wouldn’t be unusual, but a lot had changed since the previous Friday. The first few drug dealers had arrived the Monday after her talk with Morgan Edge. In reverence to the precarious situation, they were some of the gentler types - older men who had been round the scene enough to know to keep their hands and their opinions to themselves, and who’d been dealing for long enough to know when to push and when to put their balls away. They were all men. Morgan was not known for his equal opportunities policies, seeing women as little more than items to be sold and brought. Jo Davenport was an outlier, rolled out when the boss seemed a gentler touch was needed, and even she had been suspiciously absent. They’d sold a few bags of weed and coke earlier in the week, so it was possible Morgan had decided to ease The Angel into it rather than flood the market from the get go. Either way, it was a relief to have her bar back, even if nameless suspicion was tickling the back of her brain.

A few feet away, Kara laughed politely at something Mike said. Lena scowled, pushing from her position leaning on the bar, and went to serve another customer.

“What can I get you?” She asked, her eyes still fixed on Monel.

“It’s more about what I can do for _you_, handsome.”

Lena blinked, her head snapping forwards. Across the bar, Siobhan grinned at her. “This is a surprise, Siobhan.”

“A pleasant one I hope?” The woman asked with a flutter of her eyelashes. Lena chuckled.

“Of course. What do you want to drink?”

Siobhan’a smile fell, her voice turning serious. “No time for that, I’m afraid. I’m just here to pass on a message.” She crooked her finger, and against her better judgement, Lena leaned over the bar until she could feel the feminine woman’s wavy brown hair brushing her cheeks. When she spoke, her breath warmed the shell of Lena’s ear. “The police are on their way. You need to find all the gear Morgan’s guys have hidden and get rid of it.”

Lena didn’t have chance to ask twice before Siobhan was already disappearing through the crowd, her hips swaying magnetically in the tight yellow sheath dress, her steps as fast as her 6 inch heels would allow.

“Fuck.” Lena hissed. “Sam! Nia!”

Her team stopped what they were doing, with some grumbling from their customers. Lena rarely raised her voice, especially not in public, unless something was seriously wrong.

“Someone’s stashed illegals in the bar, we need to find them right now and get rid of them.” 

“Who-“ Nia began. She was cut off by the sound of sirens on the street outside. Around them, the bar froze as one, women stilling with drinks at their lips and mid-sentence, laughter cut short by the familiar horror of blue flashing lights flickering through the open front door. And then, like hitting the switch that starts the movie projector, the room erupted into motion; several of the younger women were bodily shoved through the Staff Only door and into the lot round the back of the building; there was a sudden shifting as some of the more masculine women found themselves being hastily adorned with scarves and bracelets and handbags, their lover’s frantic over their butch’s gruff protests; someone at the back of the room cut the music.

“Police! This is the National City Police Department!” A tall sergeant with a casual swagger shouted as he entered, elbowing some of the customers out of the way. “Everyone stay where you are!”

Lena narrowed her eyes, setting her face into a grimace of indignation. If her upbringing had taught her anything, it was that when faced with a threat, the only way of standing a chance of coming out the other side was by going in tooth and nail. If nothing else, she might be able to buy some time for the baby butches escaping through the fire escape.

“What is the meaning of this? I demand to see your warrant, and if you don’t have one, so help you god.” 

Behind the sergeant, more officers had arrived, all sneering at the women around them with varying levels of menace. The man snorted. “We’ve had a report of illegal drugs on the premises, and we are authorised by the city to perform a full search.”

“Show me your paperwork.” Lena asked curtly, hand outstretched. 

The policeman laughed, lifting his cap up to run a hand through his greasy blonde hair as he turned to his companions, grinning like it was all a funny game. He was still smirking cheekily when he turned back to the Luthor.

The slap came as a shock, although it shouldn’t have. Lena reeled back, her cheek stinging, anger boiling in her chest. She took a step forwards, and felt a small hand settle on the centre of her chest. Looking down, face awash with fury, she saw Nia. The girl looked terrified, but determined. _Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t do anything they can cite you for. You’re too clever for that._, her expression said. 

Lena dragged her gaze back to the man in front of her. His arrogant face hadn’t faltered. “Paperwork.” She said, matter-of-factly.

“You’re not in charge here.” He growled, smile fading. “I am.” His eyes dragged down her body, taking in the waistcoat and neck tie, the suit trousers, the thick brown leather belt. His glare settled finally on Nia, staring up at him with her worried doe eyes and her mouth set in brave determination. “It seems we have a problem here.”

Lena jutted her chin out. “We do if you won’t present the warrant that gives you the right to search my bar.”

The sergeant clicked his fingers and pointed first at Lena, then at Nia. One of the officers, a short man with a shifty demeanour, shuffled forwards, brandishing a set of handcuffs. “I’m arresting you under the state of California’s anti-masquerading laws. You know the rest.”

“Sam, call my lawyer.” Lena said, loud and clear, as the cuffs were snapped into place. Her eyes never left the sergeant’s.

It wasn’t until she was being led out, arms behind her back, that she saw Kara. The woman looked apoplectic, trying to burst through the crowd that had gathered on the street to watch as the police searched the terrified patrons. The air was filled with shouting and muttering, and from the bar behind her the ruckus of bottles and furniture being thrown about, but all Lena could see was Kara. Her makeup was smudged, and her beautiful blonde hair was working its way loose from her beehive, as Mike lifted her bodily from the ground and dragged her away down the street. _Well that’s one thing we agree on_, Lena thought, feeling a flicker of gratefulness towards her rival for keeping the younger Danvers out of harms way.

As she was shoved into the back of the waiting police van, with Nia, uncuffed, crawling in after her, Lena saw a familiar face, grinning in at them from the sidewalk. Lena squinted, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks on her, as George Lockwood gave a mock salute, and sauntered away down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It was tiring, sometimes, when you hadn't the energy for it; that's all.” Sarah Waters


	10. Chapter 10

The bar felt eerily quiet, despite the sounds of 6 people cleaning up the detritus that had been left in the police’s wake. They’d wrecked the place in their search - bottles of booze and furniture had been smashed and thrown around the room; the doors of each toilet cubicle had been kicked off their hinges; the flat above the bar looked as though a tornado had blown through it. Kara stooped to sweep up yet another pile of broken glass using the little dustpan and brush she’d found under Lena’s kitchen sink, and staunchly refused to cry. The sight of Lena being led away by the police, her cheek red with the stinging blow dealt to her, had washed away the last dregs of Kara’s illusions, both about the world she was immersing herself in, and about her feelings for the charismatic owner.

Monel had desperately tried to keep her away from the bar after the raid, and it was only through the threat that she would go to the police station instead that he had relented. Now, the man and his preppy friend were trying to repair a broken chair with hammer and nails, despite both of them being fundamentally clueless when it came to working with their hands; Livewire had gruffly offered to help, but their male pride refused to allow it.

“Hey.” Sam said, walking over and handing the blonde kneeling on the floor a mug of black coffee. “It’s been a long night, we could all do with a little pick-me-up.”

“How’s James?” Kara asked, looking over at where the big man was morosely mopping the puddle of alcohol that had been left behind the bar.

Sam shrugged. “Upset. Guilty. He thinks he should have intervened somehow, stood up to them. I think he’s annoyed that I kept him in the back with me instead of letting him swoop to the rescue.”

“I know the feeling.” Kara said sadly. “If Mike hadn’t stopped me, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

“We’re all the same.” Sam said with a frown. “But with James...if I’d have let him out front, a black man going after cops? At best he’d be in prison, and it wouldn’t be just a rough night and a fine.”

“You think that’s all Lena and Nia will get?” Kara asked hopefully.

“Lena’s lawyer Lucy called, she seems to think it will be, on account of them not finding anything illegal on the premises. Just a fine for cross dressing and a slapped wrist.”

“That’s good.” Kara said absently, handing her empty coffee cup back and moving to continue sweeping. Sam crouched down in front of her and placed a hand on her wrist.

“Kara, listen. When Lena gets back...” Sam sighed heavily. “She’s going to need us to be strong, for her. She’s going to need people around who can do that.”

Kara blinked slowly. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Lena is always so, so strong, ok? I know you know that. She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders and she does it with a swagger. But getting picked up, getting taken in for the night - it’s hard, and demeaning, and it knocks her down. Just for a little while, but it does. We need to be there to carry her when that happens, to let her fall apart for a few days, and then help her rebuild. She doesn’t need to have to bear our guilt or our frustrations at what’s happened. Nor will Nia, when we get her back.”

“Ok.” Kara answered slowly, still confused. Sam rubbed her tired eyes, suddenly looking older than she was. 

“It might be best if you go stay with Mike for a few days.” She said bluntly.

“I’m not going anywhere. Lena needs me, and I need to be here, with her.” Kara responded without hesitation. Sam opened her mouth to respond. “Sam, I’m staying. You said it yourself, when they get back, they’re going to need a helping hand. Well, I’ve got two hands, and I want to help.” 

“I-“ Sam began, looking resigned. The sound of shouting caught her attention before she could argue further.

“They’re here!” Leslie hollered from her position leaning against the doorframe, the arms that had been folded nonchalantly over her chest unfurling excitedly. Although she would never show it, everyone knew that the bouncer was equally as affected as James at her inability to prevent the police intrusion. It had made her more caustic than usual, and she’d been largely left to her own devices of smoking cigarettes out of the front door and swigging from a ruined bottle of brandy that had somehow survived having its neck broken, waiting for the dawn to arrive.

Lena looked small. That was the first thing that Kara noticed. Although she knew that she must have been aware of the butch’s short stature and lithe figure before, it was the first time she had ever seen the woman as anything other than larger than life. Now, she seemed hunched in on herself, fragile, like a neglected puppy afraid of another kick.

She shuffled in, her hair a little unkempt where the pomade had dried out, her tie and waistcoat long gone, her shirt untucked. There was a slight limp to her usually confident stride, and she held her ribs with both hands just to make the step up into the bar. Behind her came Nia, wearing an oversized rain coat; the girl had a bruise that ran the length of her left cheekbone, matching almost perfectly the one Lena sported from the previous evening, and Kara felt her rage flare all over again.

“No, I’m ok. Don’t fuss.” Lena said as she waved away an attractive stranger in a pristine charcoal 2-piece, her voice hoarse. Her lawyer, Kara assumed, seeing the woman settle her gloved hands on her hips in apparent irritation. “Leslie, help Nia please.”

“Yeah, sure, cause you look _great_.” The bouncer said with a roll of her eyes, before moving to offer Nia her arm. “You ok, kid?”

Nia smiled weakly. “Just a bit tired. It was noisy, there were a lot of drunks. I didn’t sleep.”

“Mm-hmm.” Leslie said, tactfully not asking about the shiner the younger woman sported. “You want to go lie down?”

“I’d like nothing more.” 

Kara watched their slow retreat across the floor and into the Staff Only section. She thought she heard Nia ask quietly about the mess before the door slammed shut.

“No I’m _ok_, Sam. Please just _go_. Take them with you.” Lena was sat on a bar stool, slumped heavily against the counter. She’d found an unbroken bottle of clear booze from somewhere, the top already unscrewed. Her voice sounded perilously close to cracking, and it made an equal rupture appear in Kara’s heart.

“I think that’s our queue.” Kara’s hadn’t heard Mike’s approach until his heavy, hot hand settled on her shoulder, in the crease of her neck. “You can stay at mine.”

Kara flinched. “No.”

“What? Why?” Monel asked, surprised confusion on his face.

“I’m not leaving. Lena needs me. This is my home, my friends.” Kara said, shrugging his hand away. “You go, and I’ll call you when everything has settled down.”

“Kara, be reasonable. It’s not safe here.”

“Exactly. I’m staying to protect my friends.” Kara hissed, trying to keep her voice level. “This is my decision.”

Mike huffed loudly, folding his arms. Kara had an absurd notion that he might stamp his foot; felt obscene relief when he didn’t. “You’re staying to protect them? You hardly even know them! I’m not leaving you here.”

“Look, buddy.” a deep, soothing voice intoned from behind them. The pair turned to see James, his face sagging with weariness. “It’s time for us to go. You can go home, or you can come stand watch with me for tonight, check nothing else goes down. Either way, we have to leave the ladies to it.”

“Go home, Mike.” Kara insisted, her tone broking no argument. “I’ll call you.”

The kiss Monel pressed to her cheek, overlapping the corner of her mouth, was damp and curt, and it was hard not to wipe the skin until after he had disappeared stormily through the exit. James gave her a small nod, and followed at a slower pace. 

Brainy started after them, but hesitated, glancing between the blonde woman and the door that lead to the offices and private lodgings. “I....good-day, Kara.” He finally blurted out, before scuttling away in Monel’s footsteps. Kara frowned, wondering what that was about. When she looked up again, it was to see Sam and the unknown woman approaching. “Kara, this is Lucy Lane, Lena’s lawyer.”

“Lena’s friend.” Lucy chided lightly. Kara couldn’t help but notice her crystal-sharp blue eyes and perfectly en vogue Jackie Kennedy bob with a touch of envy. 

“Well, Lena’s friend,” Sam said with a wan smile, “this is what we had in the drawer. I’ll pop to the bank on Monday and get you the rest.”

Lucy waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Let Lena pay me back in kind when that heap of junk parked out front inevitably conks out on me again.”

“Are you sure?” The manager asked, looking uncertainly at the neat fold of cash held in her hand.

“Positive. I hardly had any work to do anyway, bar filing the complaint for the unjustified search and negotiating the fine.”

“Negotiating?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

Lucy smirked. “I’ve been very proactive over the years in ensuring Lena’s pick-ups don’t result in any unseemly court appearances. If they ever set up a points scheme for wheel greasers, I should have enough for an electric toaster.”

“What would we do without you?” Sam sighed, tucking the notes into her bra.

“Best not to dwell on it.” Lucy winked, patting her acquaintance on the shoulder teasingly. “I’ll pop over in the week with the paperwork, but for now, I shall bid you _adieu_. Kara, it was lovely to meet you at last.”

“And you. Thank you, for everything.” Kara said earnestly, winning herself a warm smile and a tight handshake. Turning to Sam, she continued, “I’m so glad Lena has her. I feel like she’d have been able to sort it out even if we weren’t lucky with the drugs.”

“Yeah, lucky.” Sam said, with a quirk of her lips. “So are you really staying here tonight?”

Kara nodded firmly. “And every night until I’m no longer needed.”

Sam bit her lip, glancing at where her friend was jabbing at the buttons on the miraculously unscathed jukebox. She watched for a second until the first chords of ‘Anyone Who Had A Heart’ began echoing into the empty room. _Anyone who ever loved, could look at me and know that I love you..._

It seemed to make a decision for her, and she turned to Kara with a stoic expression. “Take care of them? My number is written above the phone in the office if you need me. I’ll be home in less than 30 minutes.” _Anyone who ever dreamed, could look at me and know I dream of you...._

“I promise.” Kara said, placing her hand on her heart. _Knowing I love you so..._

Sam snorted at the action, and with a second further pause to watch Lena stumble back to her seat, turned and left, grabbing her handbag on the way out. _Anyone who had a heart would take me in his arms and love me too..._

Lena had taken to humming along, the sad words filling her already beleaguered body with a buzz-saw of emotion. She took a swig of gin, clutching her stomach as she swallowed. A loud sigh escaped her lips, as she allowed her head to rest in her hands, feeling a familiar loneliness creeping back in at the sound of the front door slamming shut. The scrape of the stool next to hers being dragged clear made her start. Kara gave a small, apologetic smile.

“Only me.”

“What...what are you doing here, Kara? I told Sam to have everyone leave.” Lena asked sharply, eyes glassy.

“I don’t follow instructions well.” The secretary shrugged, tucking her hands into her lap to stop her from doing something stupid, like reaching out and pulling the beaten woman into her embrace. “I won’t bother you. I’ll just sit here quietly.”

“Kara, go home.” The butch wiped her palm over her eyes, wincing when it nudged the purpling bruise. “You don’t need to see this. I’m fine, anyway.”

“I know you are.” Kara agreed, her voice soothing. “I just want to be here for my own sanity. If you’ll let me.”

Lena stared for a long time, looking all at sea, until she finally relented with a slow nod. They sat in silence then, the only sound the mournful melodies emanating from the juke box: _Smoke Gets In Your Eyes_...._Tears On My Pillow_..._Black Coffee_...

They were halfway through _PS I Love You_, Billie Holliday’s heartbreaking voice winding around Kara’s lungs like the tree roots that rip apart brick, threatening to pull away her composure, when Lena finally spoke. “This was top of the Hit Parade the first time I cut my hair.”

“It was?”

“Not this version.” Lena said, taking a swig. “That group....The Hill-something-or-others. Back in 53’. I was 18, and the first thing I did when I graduated from boarding school was cut all my hair off. I got my friend to do it - we only had some nail scissors and it looked a fright, but I loved it.”

Kara wrinkled her nose tenderly, picturing a younger version of Lena, her hair cut into ragged tufts, grinning to see herself for the first time. “I bet you looked amazing.”

“My mother didn’t think so. That was the first time she threatened to disinherit me.”

“What happened?” Kara asked, tentative.

Lena laid her head on her forearm, turning her face to look at her friend. “My father intervened. I’ve no idea why - he wasn’t exactly winning any prizes for attentive parenting. But I got my college tuition, and through that Veronica, and a little freedom, and I thought I could be happy. Really make a go of it, as myself. A happy little life.”

Kara couldn’t think what to say; she just reached over, not touching, just laying her hand on the sticky counter, close enough to Lena that she could feel her breathes tickling the back of her hand.

“Then he died. And Veronica fucked me over. And I got thrown away like an unsavoury bit of garbage, and I thought, ‘hey, look on the bright side, this is the worst it’s ever going to get’. I got stopped by the police for the first time 2 weeks later, taken in, roughed up, the works. And still, I thought, ‘well, this is it now, rock bottom, the only way is up’. We got the bar, and Ruby came along, and it was great. It really was..” Lena sniffed, a fat tear drop finally escaping her eye. “And then I had to use the bathroom when I was out in public, and a girl in there got upset. Thought I was a guy. Her boyfriend and his friends dragged me out and worked me over right in the middle of this grubby cafeteria. Took two weeks til I was fit to be seen. Two weeks with Sam looking after me and her baby, all because some idiots....” She trailed off, wiping at her nose with the back of her sleeve.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Kara said, her eyes welling up and spilling over. 

“I just think, why? What’s the point? I’m not hurting anybody. We’re not hurting anybody. Just leave us alone. But they don’t. They just keep coming. Cops and homophobic bastards and scumbags like Morgan fucking Edge. And Nia...poor Nia...it’s already begun for her, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It breaks my heart, because she’s so sweet and gentle, and give it a few years and she’ll be just as tough and broken as me.”

“You’re not broken, and I’m so sorry that you feel that way, Lena.” Kara whispered sincerely. Lena pouted up at her with wet eyes, then took her hand and pressed a damp, tear-stained kiss to the knuckles.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. _I’m_ sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” 

Lena gestured around. “You shouldn’t have to be around this. You shouldn’t have to see me being so...so...weak.”

Kara squeezed the offered hand tighter, her voice a growl with the emphasis she was trying to pour into her words. “You are not weak, Lena Luthor. You’ve had a horrible time, and letting yourself get upset about it for once is not weak. It’s human. You’re so strong, and so brave.”

“Does this look strong to you?” Lena snorted.

“Yes.” Kara answered, simply, honestly. “And if you aren’t feeling so right now, that’s fine too. I can be strong for both of us.”

The brunette blinked, mouth agape. She shut it slow as treacle, and swallowed thickly. “You think instead, we can just be strong enough for each other?”

Kara beamed. “I’d like that.”

They sat, holding each other’s hands, Lena’s gin forgotten, until the record finished and the machine clicked off. It seemed to break the spell hanging heavy between them. Kara blushed, reluctantly pulling her hand away; Lena cleared her throat, running a hand through her mussed hair. “I think we should head up, try and get some sleep, what do you say?”

“Good idea.” Kara said with a smile, hopping off her stool, holding her hand out. Lena hesitated, just for a beat, before allowing herself to be lead up the stairs.

The flat was dark, the curtains closed against the streaming mid-morning light, and the gentle sound of snoring drifted through the open door of Nia’s bedroom. Kara poked her head in, careful to make no noise. Inside, Nia was lying facing the wall, blankets pulled up so that only a crown of brown hair could be seen poking out. Next to her, Livewire was dozing in a threadbare club chair, her left hand resting protectively on Nia’s back. On her other was a glint of bronze that signalled she was wearing her trademark knuckle dusters, though who she intended to fight was unclear. Kara watched the scene for a second, drinking in the calm, before she carefully and gently closed the door.

“Kara?” Lena was hovering in the doorway of her own room, wringing her hands together in anxiety.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Kara whispered, stepping closer.

“Could you stay with me tonight?” The butch’s voice cracked slightly on the question, her nerves written clear in her body language and wide open eyes.

“Of course.” Kara said, pressing the tips of her fingers lightly to the other woman’s cheek. “Let me get ready for bed and I’ll be in. Do you want a glass of water or anything?”

“No, thank you.” Lena said quietly, before disappearing into the bedroom.

By the time Kara had drunk a cup of luke warm water from the tap and changed into her nightdress, Lena was curled up in bed, arms wrapped tightly around herself, open eyes firmly on the blonde as she entered. The room was gloomy, the thick black-out curtains blocking most of the sun.

“Is this ok?” She asked, as Kara slid under the covers.

“This is perfect.” Kara answered, settling close to the other woman, their legs twining together. Lena was only in her boxers and undershirt, Kara realised with a skip of her heart, the soft downy hair on her legs rubbing against Kara’s own shaven skin. 

They lay in silence, facing each other, fingers tangled together, until Kara was sure the Luthor had fallen asleep. The horror of the previous evening and the long, sour night began to weigh in heavily, making her eyes ache and her brain sting. The relief of sleep was rapidly approaching, and she was gratefully ready to give in, when Lena spoke.

“I didn’t have sex with Siobhan.” The brunette’s face was masked in darkness, and her voice was even. “I know you thought I might have, but I didn’t. I only brought her up because she’d have been in trouble if he thought that we didn’t...well...y’know, but it turned out to be useful, in the end. She warned me about the cops.” There was a weighted pause. “I taught her how to play chess to pass the time, while we were up here.”

Kara lay still, filing away the information. The words, twinned with warmth of their bodies woven together under the thick woollen blanket, helped work away her tension, and she marvelled at how content she felt; how light, suddenly, after the ponderous night. Next to her, Lena shifted, hissing slightly at the pain, and then relaxed with a soft, pleasant sigh. 

“Will you teach me to play chess?” Kara asked after a long, comfortable minute of listening to each other’s heartbeats.

“If you like.” Lena yawned, only half awake, before drifting into a deep, deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was difficult. Sorry for any spelling errors - blame the lurgy and the emotion.
> 
> Next chapter: the team get some well earned R&R, before the fight back begins.
> 
> NB: I know ‘Anyone Who Had A Heart’ wasn’t released until ‘64, but it was just soooo right for this story that I’m considering changing the name of the fic altogether.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Screams like that scene in The Office* ITS HAPPENING

They woke up at 2pm, still muddled up together. In her sleep, Kara had somehow drifted into Lena’s arms, and awoke with her own scrunched to her chest, her mouth pressed to the other woman’s collar bone, feeling cosy and safe and loved. When she shifted, Lena gave a small groan of displeasure and tightened her arms, strong biceps built from years of hauling barrels and crates around for the bar, flexing like willow. Kara smiled, acquiescing to a little longer in their cocoon.

Around 2:30, Livewire knocked on their door and announced matter of factly that the first of the butches had arrived.

They arrived in dribs and drabs, all mildly dishevelled, all with wild, anxious eyes. Some were with the friends or lovers who had bailed them out, some were alone. There were 6, all in all, and they filled every surface in the apartment until Lena had to ask Leslie to grab some old crates from downstairs to provide more seating. Some of the women Kara recognised, others she didn’t, but Lena greeted each one warmly if a little formally, as one would an old acquaintance or a fond work colleague. They talked together lowly, in quiet whispers, and Lena handed out scraps of paper with Lucy’s contact details on, while Kara made batches of toast and coffee, tactfully looking away when one of the stone women teared up. The flat was hot, and comfortable despite the mass of bodies and the clouds of smoke. Nia sat slightly apart, her eyes occasionally glazing over, until one of the femmes dragged her into a conversation about a television show that they both liked. Kara could recognise a distraction tactic when she saw one, and appreciated it, because she herself had no idea how to comfort the girl without distressing her further.

Around 4, Sam arrived, dragging James after her. He’d spent the day sat in his battered old ‘49 Mercury, eyes drooping and fists clenched on the steering wheel as he watched for trouble from the empty lot across the street. He looked worn out and sheepish, but the women welcomed him as a friend. Sam herself was, as ever, effusive, giving motherly hugs to the butches that had been incarcerated and exchanging banter with their girlfriends and lovers.

The room grew louder as the atmosphere changed from somber to vibrant, and it was only as Kara walked Taz McGee and her sister Mary to the door around 6 that she realised they had an unexpected visitor.

“I did knock.” Brainy said quickly, seeing the suspicion blossom on the three women’s faces.

“It’s ok, he’s a friend.” Kara said, still cynical as to the man’s reasons for being at her door, but unwilling to cause more upset for their guests.

“I came to see Nia.” He said, waving the small, tatty paperback he held in his hand by way of explanation. “I brought a book that I hope she might like. It has gotten me through some difficult times.”

Kara regarded the man for a moment. He looked like a nervous schoolboy, in his cream letterman cardigan and red striped tie, bouncing on the balls of his feet in their white tennis shoes. Harmless enough, she thought as she gestured him up the stairs.

He stopped in the doorway of the flat, frozen in place, and Kara had to squeeze round him to get into the room. It was quieter now, just the bar’s staff milling about, which left a clear line to where Nia sat, legs crossed in a feminine manner, on the arm of the sofa; her body was turned towards James, mid-sentence, her face a wash of shock at seeing the young man standing dumbly in the entrance. 

Sam stilled at the kitchen bin, a full ashtray in both hands. Livewire pushed herself from where she leaned against the wall, looking poised for a fight; Lena rose from her seat on an upturned crate, and moved to stand protectively in front of Nia, flexing, the bruises visible on her bare arms and wrists not diminishing her show of strength.

“Brainy is here to see Nia.” Kara said brightly. Turning to the man hovering anxiously behind, she said, “Everyone’s a little on edge. Sit down, I’ll get you a coffee.”

Awkwardly, Brainy stepped through the room, looking for a seat. James shuffled up, gesturing to the sofa. “Here, man.”

“Thank you, most kind.” The white man acknowledged, slotting himself into the slither of couch remaining. A faint blush coloured both his and Nia’s cheeks as they realised how close they were sitting. The room was silent, bar the sound of Kara assembling another pot of coffee. 

“This is adorable.” Sam whispered, her arms folded and a smirk on her lips. “What is young love but hours of painful, ear-burning embarrassment?”

Kara stifled a laugh. “We all have to go through it.” Sam side-eyed the blonde, considering that statement for a moment, but didn’t otherwise react.

“This might be presumptuous of me, but I thought you might...um...” Brainy licked his lips, before pushing the small volume unceremoniously into Nia’s lap. 

“Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Selected Poems.” Nia read aloud, before looking at Brainy with a curious expression.

“I found this copy in high school and it has seen me through many tumultuous times.” Brainy said, before reaching over to place his palm lovingly over the front cover. “I gift it to you, Nia Nal, in the hope that it revives you as it has me.”

They sat for a while, gazing into each other’s eyes, until James cleared his throat self-consciously, slapping his thighs. “Right, well, I should get going. Are you sure you’ll be ok tonight?”

“Of course.” Lena said, struggling to her feet and taking his hand in a firm, manly handshake. “Thank you, James. For everything.”

“Of course Lena. We’re family.” The man responded.

“Give me a lift home?” Sam asked, stepping to his side. James smiled, soft and warm, and nodded. Sam pressed her hand to his bicep in silent thanks, before turning to her best friend. “And we’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“Absolutely.” Lena nodded, sounding unenthusiastic.

“Hey, you should come too.” Sam said to Brainy as she reached for her bag, hanging on the back of a kitchen chair. “We’re going to the beach for a bit of R&R.”

“Oh, I, uh-“ Brainy stammered, looking out of his depth.

“I’ll be going too.” Nia said shyly. “It would be nice to get to know you better.”

“I’d be honoured.” Brainy said quickly.

Over his head, Sam smirked, and threw a wink at Kara. The blonde rolled her eyes with a chuckle, before they settled on Lena, who was watching her with something intense, smouldering in those green depths.

——————————————————-

Alex’s hug was almost suffocating, and it went on for an age, the older woman muttering into Kara’s hair that she was sorry and that she hated that she’d been MIA for the whole sordid event.

“I should have called, last night or this morning, or just...done something. We didn’t know anything was wrong.” Maggie growled, hands on hips. “Christ, I never even had an inkling this was coming.”

The couple had arrived at The Angel at 8, immediately concerned upon finding it closed, and had been beating themselves up ever since. 

Everyone else had left; Nia had excused herself, looking dead on her feet but still clutching her gift tightly to her chest bone, seeming dizzy about it.

“It was a surprise to all of us.” Lena said. She’d slowly sunk into herself as the day wore on, her porcelain skin going grey and her eyelids half-shutting. She sat now against the back of the couch, hands on her thighs, hunched over. As much as Kara loved her sister, she desperately wished they would leave so that she could put Lena to bed.

“I just don’t understand, not one of my sources let me know.” Maggie continued, looking stressed. 

“Well, at least we’ll save a few bucks in payments.” Lena quipped half-heartedly.

“We should have been here.” Alex said, releasing her sister from her embrace but keeping an arm wrapped firmly around her waist. “I should have been here for _you_.”

“You’re allowed to have a life of your own.” Kara said. “And I want all the details. Well, all the clean details.”

“I’m sorry, I completely forgot.” Lena shook her head as if to clear some fog. “How was the date?”

Maggie and Alex smiled moonily at each other. “It was nice.” Alex said.

“So are you two..?” Kara said, hands clasped in front of her, jiggling excitedly.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Yes, Kara we’re dating.”

“_Exclusively_ dating.” Alex added, slowly, uncertainty in her tone. Maggie smiled, reaching to take her hand. 

“Exclusively.” She agreed.

“Thank god for that.” Lena said, rising wobbily to her feet. “Not to be rude but I’m going to hit the hay. It’s been a rather trying 24 hours. We’re going to the beach tomorrow, though - Kara will give you the details.”

“If you don’t mind?” Alex asked, looking concerned as the butch staggered towards the bedroom. 

“The more the merrier.” Lena responded gruffly. Kara watched her go with barely restrained panic, feeling a protectiveness blossoming in her chest that she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before.

——————————————————-

The morning dawned a bright 68 degrees, and as she sorted out her beach wear, Kara once again thanked her lucky stars that she lived in Southern California, where the winter chill rarely reached.

She had chosen a blue and white striped cotton midi dress, that tied at the front and revealed rather more cleavage than she usually would. As she pulled it on over the red bikini she had bought that summer but never been brave enough to wear, she reflected that for the first time in her life she was going all-out to impress a suitor. With the few men she’d courted, she’d always been keen to hide her feminine figure, to dress more like an old prude than a young sensual woman. It had been easy to let them think it was modesty that drove her standoffish-ness, when in reality it had been a certain wrongness that came with their touch, a fear of their inevitable wet kisses, that drove her to minimise herself. With Lena, however, she felt a hitherto unknown desire to show, to reveal, to tempt. She wanted the butch to look at her, and more than anything, to like what she saw.

When she stepped from the room, she found Lena waiting, leaning nonchalantly against the kitchen counter, toying with the rim of her straw Panama hat. She looked relaxed, staring out of the window with her eyes scrunched up against the light, and Kara allowed herself a second to appreciate the clean lines of her sandy yellow walkshorts and short sleeved mint green button-up. She looked like she’d wondered out of an advert selling vacations she’d seen once, despite the marks that still adorned her face and body, and it made something new begin to simmer inside of her stomach. 

“Hey, you.” She said, swallowing those thoughts down for another time. “Ready to go?”

Lena smiled. “Yep, the cars are all packed, and I think Rubes might scream if we don’t leave soon.” she held her hand out, and Kara took it gratefully. “Shall we?”

Parked out front in the quiet of the lazy Sunday, the Bel Air was already full with Nia and Brainy in the backseat, Livewire squeezed between them, a lit cigarette hanging between her lips. James’ old Mercury was equally as full, although it seemed more so of deck chairs, coolers and beach toys than people. From the mass of items on the back seat, Ruby was waving and shrieking at Kara and Lena to hurry. Kara waved back, grinning excitedly.

“Is Alex not here?” Kara asked as she slid into the passenger seat of the Bel Air.

As if on cue, the roar of a motorbike cut through the calm, and Maggie pulled up next to the passenger window on a red BSA. Riding pillion sat the elder Danvers, smiling like a Cheshire Cat. They both wore open helmets, although the cop looked none to pleased about it. “It’s health and safety gone mad.” She grumbled, to which Alex rolled her eyes.

As Lena eased into first gear and the convoy set off, Kara felt the pressure that had hung around the bar like static electricity ebb away. As they reached the freeway, and Lena opened the car up, even Livewire relaxed enough to crack a smile. 

“Oh I love this song!” Nia squealed when the radio played Deep Purple, shooting over the centre console to turn it up.

“It’s very hip.” Brainy agreed magnanimously, having to shout to be heard over the sound of the young woman singing the _woo-woo-woo_ parts at top volume.

“Actually, i don’t need to go to the beach. Anywhere here will be fine, if you could drop me off.” Leslie hollered, looking pained. Nia grinned slyly, and sang a little louder.

Kara laughed, a full belly guffaw that bubbled up from under her rib cage and burst forth without shame, and when Lena reached across and rested her hand on Kara’s naked thigh, there was an undeniable twinkle in her own eye too.

——————————-———————————-

The drive to the secret beach that Lena knew took nearly an hour, despite there being a more public beach less than 5 miles away. When they arrived, however, and saw the small, secluded, empty cove in front of them with its rolling waves and pristine, untouched sand, they all agreed it was worth it.

It took a while to set up the chairs and lay out towels; Lena set up a huge beach umbrella (“You can judge all you want but I’m telling you it takes seconds for me to go from ivory to lobster pink”), and James and Alex bickered about the best way to secure the wind breaker until it was unanimously decided that it wasn’t needed. It felt, Kara thought, very nice - very normal - just like any other American family might do on a sunny Sunday. Sinking onto a beach towel and taking off her sandals, she dug her toes into the sand, burrowing under the warm, dry grains into the cold, wet layer beneath. The noise of the ocean in front of her and the sound of Sam refereeing Alex and James’ disagreement behind was oddly soothing.

There was a grunt as Lena lowered herself down onto the neighbouring towel, kicking off her plimsolls. Although the butch refused to admit it, Kara knew she was still in discomfort from whatever the thugs at the police station had done to her. Their knees bumped gently together, and Kara surreptitiously shuffled a little closer, enjoying the contact.

“You look happy.” Lena said, smiling fondly.

“Contended.”

“It’s a nice place.” Lena said, squinting out at the sea.

“I’m contented whenever I’m with you.” Kara said honestly, her gaze resting on Lena’s profile, marvelling at the surprise that blossomed there.

“You have no idea how the things you say affect me.” Lena whispered, candid. 

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me?” Kara licked her lips, wondering when their faces had gotten so close. 

_Click_

Both women started; James held the camera up apologetically. “Just trying to get some for the family album.”

Lena coughed, leaning away and dusting sand from her legs. “Well, in that case - Rubes, come get a photo with your auntie Lena.”

“Hey, I want in!” Sam shouted, rolling out of her deck chair and hurrying over, clothes already discarded in favour of a striped orange one-piece and floppy hat.

“Group photo!” Kara agreed, gesturing to her sister and friends. It took three attempts to position the camera well enough that it wouldn’t fall over, but eventually they managed to get a group shot using the timer, despite much grumbling from Livewire. “I hope it turns out.” Kara said, watching as everyone dispersed again: Sam to read her book, James and Ruby to build sandcastles, Alex and Maggie to swim, Nia and Brainy to walk along the sea front in apparently endless deep conversation. Livewire had stretched out on a towel, still wearing her tight black jeans and black t-shirt, and was soaking up the sun like a lioness at midday. 

“How did you find out about this place? It’s so quiet!” Kara asked, grabbing a handful of sand and letting it run through her fingers, onto a little pile around her toes.

Lena smiled, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “Would you be jealous if I told you a lover brought me here?”

Kara thought about it. “For a bit. But you’re here with me now.”

Lena’s smile widened. “I am, and gladly so.”

They sat for a while, comfortably not speaking, playing with the sand and watching their friends. 

“What did you do when you were here with her?” Kara asked eventually.

“Why?” Lena asked, confused.

Kara shrugged, not meeting Lena’s eyes. “Just curious.”

“We were young. We swam and drank and fell asleep on the beach.” Lena said after a pause. “But that was my past, Kara. I’d much rather talk about what I’d like to do with you, here.”

Kara raised her eyes, expecting to see teasing in Lena’s expression but finding only earnestness. “Tell me?”

“One day in the future,” Lena said, her voice dropping at the implied promise, “I would love to come back here, just you and me. I’d like to feed you on fish cooked over an open fire, and swim naked in the sea, and wrap you in a blanket to make sure you didn’t get cold. I’d like to recite terrible poetry to you, and have you tell me the constellations, and listen to you sing that awful song you sing in the shower. I’d like to do anything you want to do, to make you happy.”

“Is that what you did with her?” 

Lena’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Eaten fresh fish and skinny dipped?” Kara asked with a half smile, her cheek resting on her knee.

“Been in love.” Lena said simply. 

“Lee, come get some sunscreen on.” Sam called, from where she was lotionning Ruby up from an industrial sized bottle of Glacier Cream. 

“Probably a good idea.” Lena said with a wink, gamely climbing to her feet, as if she hadn’t just stopped Kara’s heart.

————————————————————

“I’ve really fucked up, Sam.” Lena hissed, as soon as Ruby had dragged Kara down to the seashore to search for shells. A little way away, James and Nia were playing pat-pat tennis, badly, and Brainy was explaining to a disinterested Livewire about coral’s natural sun protection. Maggie and Alex had disappeared into the dunes after their swim, and Sam suspected they were fucking.

At her friends words Sam blinked, lowering her sunglasses. “Whyyy?” She drawled.

Lena’s eyes bulged, puffing out her cheeks and grabbing a hunk of her hair. Sam smiled; to the world at large, Lena was ice cold, and sleek as polished steel. Only in front of Sam would she allow herself to be anything less. “Tell auntie Sam what you’ve done.” She teased.

“I may have...got caught up...in the moment.” Lena said, hesitantly.

“Go on?”

“I...may have...told her that I love her.” Lena said, hunching her shoulders as though expecting an outburst.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “And do you?” 

Lena pouted. “Do you think I’m the sort of person who tells people they love them when I don’t?”

Sam had to concede that. She hadn’t been particularly close to Lena when the whole Veronica incident happened; they’d been periphery friends who became sisters through their own separate traumas; she’d never heard Lena talk of love for or with anyone, not romantically at least. “And what did she say?”

“She didn't say anything. You called and I ran.” 

“For fucks sake Lena.” The older woman sighed.

“I panicked! I hadn’t intended to say _anything_, it just slipped out!”

Sam squinted out towards the shore, where Kara was chasing Ruby with what looked like a large handful of dripping seaweed. “What made you, then?”

Lena looked down, wiping sand from her calves. “I just...with everything going on, she’s been like a ray of sunshine for me. I didn’t think I could have her, not like that, but then yesterday when I was so low, so broken, she made me feel...safe, I think? When we woke up together-“

Sam held up an open hand. “Pause there. You woke up together?”

“Not like that!” Lena’s eyes widened at the implication. “We just spent the night together.” Sam pulled a face, and Lena groaned. “Not like that either! We slept in the same bed. Platonically. But I haven’t felt that cared for in years.”

“Gee, thanks.” Sam teased. Lena pushed her shoulder fondly.

“I don’t mean it that way. You are and have always been great to me, looked after me. You mean the world to me. It’s just...different.”

“I know.” Sam said, subconsciously glancing to where James was jogging to retrieve the errant tennis ball. “It is different, when you’re in love.”

“I’m just not sure. I want to be with her, but I don’t know if she feels that way or if it’s just my wishful thinking.”

“Listen, Lee. That girl is crazy about you. She was about ready to go to war when you got arrested.”

“But she’s got a boyfriend...”

Sam shrugged gallically. “Well, we aren’t all as lucky to find ourselves right out of the gate.”

They sat for a moment in companionable silence, listening to Brainy drone on and Livewire snore softly. Sam riffled through her bag, finding a corned beef sandwich wrapped in grease proof paper, and offering half to her friend. Alex and Maggie appeared in the distance, cresting a dune hand-in-hand; Maggie was carrying her blouse, her white one-piece bright even against the yellow sand.

“Sam, not to change the subject but Morgan Edge called the cops. Siobhan came to warn me. She thought he’d stashed some drugs in the bar.” Lena said, out of the blue. She sounded tired, disinterested.

“He did.”

“Did what?”

“Stash some drugs.” Sam said, taking a dainty bite of her sandwich. She chewed methodically, swallowing before continuing, “That’s where I disappeared to, when the pigs arrived. I found them in the ladies toilets, hidden under the sink. Bit of heroin, by the look of it. Flushed it down the staff toilet while you were making a scene. That’s where James found me.” 

Lena blinked at her, mouth ajar. “You could have been arrested for that. Aiding and abetting.”

“Meh.” The mother said dismissively. “You’re my best friend.”

Lena was still staring dumbfounded at her friend when Maggie and Alex flumped down in the shade of the umbrella. “What’s going on?” Maggie asked, glancing between the two women.

“Nothing.” Sam said, handing a bottle of water to the couple. “Alex, you’ve got grass in your hair.” Alex blushed, glaring at Maggie when she joined in the laughter.

—————————-———————-

“What a day.” Lena sighed, throwing her car keys onto the dining table. Nia had decided to stay at Brainy’s, which had lead to an awkward kind of shovel talk at the door to his apartment building, Nia all the while protesting loudly and rolling her eyes. The flat with just Kara and Lena felt strange.

“A nice day?” Kara asked, stretching her arms above her head to let the weariness seep out. Lena watched her with intent eyes.

“A very lovely day.” She agreed. “Nightcap?” 

Kara automatically went to refuse, before seeing that the bottle Lena was waving was actually a jar of Ovaltine. She laughed. “You know me well, Ms Luthor.”

“I hope to, one day.” Lena winked, busying herself with boiling a pan of water. As she did so, Kara went to fiddle with the small portable record player that she’d brought with her, and which Lena had allowed her to set up in the living room. Nia had been considerably more enthusiastic about it than the butch, and Kara’s slim stack of records had quickly doubled with Nia’s eclectic tastes: Doris Day, The Beatles, Johnny Cash...

Selecting a record at random, she set the needle, and the sound that drifted out made her melt. She remembered the song, from somewhere - it was an old one, a romantic tune that made her think of crowded dance halls and the promise of moonlight.

“May I have this dance, Ms Danvers?” Lena asked, her voice incredibly close to the back of Kara’s neck. 

Turning, slowly, Kara nodded, stepping into Lena’s arms, her heart thumping as it had every time they’d danced, back in those early days of getting to know each other. This was different. So much had happened in that space of time; it was just over 2 months, but felt like eons. Kara wasn’t the same woman she was then, and she felt an urge to just grab - grab for what she wanted, shamelessly, selfishly, for once in her life.

They swayed for a time, eye to eye, smiling softly at each other. She could smell the last hints of Lena’s aftershave under the more powerful sun cream and sweat, the salt of the sea. Her own skin felt gritty, prickly with the residue of the day, but with the way Lena was looking at her and the hot hands on her waist, she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt more desirable. Or more keen to be desired.

“You’re turning my head.” She said quietly, barely loud enough to be heard over the music.

“I’m trying to.” Lena answered, a hint of cheekiness in her voice.

“Did you...” Kara began, before looking quickly away. A gentle finger on her chin turned her face back to meet smouldering green eyes.

“Ask me.” Lena said, breath ghosting over Kara’s skin.

“When you said you were in love, at the beach...did you mean it?”

Lena sighed, soft and needy. “Yes.”

“Did you mean in love with me?” Kara asked, eyes flicking down to the brunette’s lips.

“Yes.” 

Behind them, the record clicked off; the needle pulled up. Neither woman moved.

“Can I kiss you, Kara?” Lena asked, sounding a little tentative.

“Just a kiss.” Kara whispered, but it came out as a mumble, their mouths already seeking each other out. The first touch was like nothing Kara had experienced before; she had a flash of regret that she’d been missing out of the electric thrill of it for so long. Lena tasted sweet, and sour, and so, so addictive. 

It was soft, and chaste, and when they broke, Kara leaned her forehead against Lena’s, and closed her eyes until her breathing settled down. “I want more.” She managed, causing Lena to chuckle.

“I do too. Believe me, I’m aching for you. But...”

Kara nodded, leaning back but not breaking their embrace. “I’m going to leave him. I don’t want to be with him. I want to be with you, and for you, and only you.”

“That’s a big promise.” Lena smiled weakly, a tinge of self-conscious doubt colouring her words.

“It is.” Kara said, pulling Lena’s hand to her mouth and kissing the damp palm. “One I intend to keep. I love you, Lena. Since the first moment I saw you, sat reading your novel in the pub, looking grouchy and, oh, utterly spectacular.”

Lena beamed. “We’re really doing this?”

Kara nodded, her smile equally wide. “Soon.”

As they lay in bed together that night, wrapped in each other’s arms, bodies vibrating with the promise of _more_, the words of that silly, old-timey love song swaddled them, filling the air like warm hope, and lulled them into a dream-filled sleep.

_My love must be a kind of blind love...I can't see anyone but you..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Kara plays in the last scene is I Only Have Eyes For You by The Flamingos, which is in my not-so-humble opinion the most romantic song ever written. Go on, have a listen - treat yourself.
> 
> NB: I really love this story, and I’m doing my best to cross check for mistakes, spelling errors and inconsistencies, but if you do spot any glaring ones, please don’t be shy about pointing them out - teamwork makes for dream work...


	12. Chapter 12

John Jones looked awkward as he surveyed the final cleanup of the bar; the smell of fresh paint hung in the air, bottles were being placed on shelves, pumps tested, and Lena was giving the floor a final deep clean, her sleeves rolled up and mop in hand, soap suds pooling round her boots. She looked up at the detective expectantly.

“Apologies, you find us in a disarray, Mr Jones. We’re hoping to re-open tonight, so it’s all hands to the pump.”

John nodded, gesturing to the mop with the hat in hand. “I’ll be honest Ms Luthor, you didn’t strike me as the kind of person to get your hands dirty. I didn’t expect someone with the surname ‘Luthor’ to even know what one of those was for.”

Lena smiled thinly. “You’d at amazed at how dirty these hands really are, Mr Jones, if you look closely enough.”

There was an awkward silence. “Well, I’m sure that’s true for all of us.” The man said, eventually.

“Do you have something for me?” The owner asked, tired of the small talk and conscious that it was already 1pm, with opening planned for 7. 

The man stepped forwards. “Can we go somewhere more private?” 

“Of course. Leslie, can you finish the floor?” Lena called to where Livewire lounged, spread across a table, picking grime from under her long fingernails.

“Not my job.” She said without looking up.

“I’ve got it.” Nia said, taking the mop handle. “I’ve finished cleaning the sinks.”

Lena smiled, chucking her under the chin. “You’re a love.”

It had been a week and a half since the night of the raid, and both women’s bruises were all but gone. Lena’s ribs no longer ached, and although the split lip was still prominent the swelling had gone down. The bar had been closed long enough that they’d had chance to repair the broken furniture and even add a lick of paint to the tired walls, but now Lena’s bank account was screaming, and if they didn’t open that night, she had no idea what she’d do. The $200 she owed John sat in the safe, untouched; Lena Luthor wasn’t a woman to go back on her word, even if she’d been eating pinto beans and rice for the last week.

Stepping into the harsh lighting of the offices, Lena gestured John to sit on one of the uncomfortable hard backed chairs. She herself perched on the edge of the desk, hands folded in front of her. 

“I see you had some trouble?” John said after a moment, gesturing to the fading yellow-ish bruises on the business woman’s face.

Lena shrugged. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. How can I help you Mr Jones?”

The detective raised his brows, but didn’t comment further. Instead, he reached inside the well-used documents case at his side and pulled out some sheets of paper. “I have some...news, pertaining to your brother.” He placed a sheet on the desk. They were photographs, black and white, blown up large. “It seems Morgan Edge has been spending some time at Luthor Manor.” A second photo followed. “And at Luthor Corp headquarters.” A third. “Lex Luthor’s political office in the Business District.”

Lena stared at the pictures for a moment, before letting out a sigh. “This isn’t really news, Mr Jones, but I appreciate having some hard proof that Lex is working with that lowlife.” 

“I understand.” John shrugged. He held a fourth sheet up, between thumb and forefinger, waggling it enticingly. “This, however, may interest you more.”

The right hand corner of the photo was obscured by foliage; it showed the driveway at Luthor Manor, immediately outside the main house, three black cars parked in a line. In front of them, laughing like old friends, stood Edge, and- 

“Is that...?” Lena asked, eyes wide.

John nodded with a smirk. “Mr Benjamin Lockwood himself.”

The Luthor rose to her feet, blowing out a breath, and ran a rough, detergent smelling hand over her hair. “Well, that _is_ news.”

Ben Lockwood was a handsome man, in his mid-forties, with an easy, charming way about him and jet black hair that he kept slicked back in the same old fashioned style as Lena. He was also, unmitigatedly, an utter bastard. He ran his own quasi-militaristic political group, The Children of Liberty, who were little more than poorly disguised neo-nazis; men who returned from the war in Europe having decided that maybe their opponents had been _onto something_. They’d been implicated in several high profile murders and hate crimes, and no-one but the WASP-y Aryan stereotypes they revered were safe: black businessmen, Hispanic cops, Jewish doctors, Muslim lawyers, gay people, trans people...there seemed no end to those that The Children violently disapproved of, nor did there seem an end to the amount of leniency shown to their members. Lena knew not a single one of Ben’s followers had ever been convicted, and that the majority of National City citizens hated both them and whoever was lending his deep pockets to keep them safe. Lex associating with Lockwood would be nothing short of political suicide.

“It isn’t enough to bring him down.” She said wistfully, her finger tracing the image. 

“But it’s a start.” John said, with a half smile.

Lena sighed. “It is. But unfortunately, my well has run dry, Mr Jones.” She walked to the corner of the room where the heavy, green safe sat, and opened it using the combination. The money was where she left it. “This is yours.” She said with a hint of sorrow, handing the cash over. John took it with a frown, and tucked it into the inside pocket of his rain coat.

“Thank you, Ms Luthor.” The man rose to his feet, holding out his hand. “I’ll let you know when I find further information.”

Lena frowned, mid-handshake. “Mr Jones, I fear you didn’t understand me, so I’ll be blunt. I have no more money to pay you.”

The detective nodded. “I heard. But you seem like a good woman, Ms Luthor, and those men,” he jabbed at the stack of papers still sat on the desk, “have ruined too many good people’s lives. I don’t want more money, I just want to help you.”

“It sounds as if you have a personal stake at play here?” 

“I do.” He responded simply, his face suddenly grave. “This is personal for me, just as much as it is for you, I reckon. And I think together we can bring hellfire raining down on these bastard’s heads.”

Lena puffed out her cheeks, before nodding slowly, exhaling a long breath. “Well then, let’s see what else we can rake up. I have some more information you might be interested in...”

—————————-———————————-

It had been over a week since Kara committed herself to Lena, and she hadn’t yet found chance to have The Talk with Monel. Not for want of trying. He’d been away with work for a few days in Chicago, and when he returned, it was though he had a sixth sense as to what was coming. She’d catch a glimpse of him in the work canteen, and he’d scurry away; she’d call his apartment, and the phone would ring out; she went to his desk and he was called into a meeting. It felt more like a British farce film than real life.

It came as a surprise then when the man pulled her aside after the obligatory morning staff meeting, all charming smiles and lingering touches, to ask her out that evening.

“The usual spot.” He said, with a wink, and Kara’s heart sank. The usual spot meant a diner popular with young professionals, and absolutely not somewhere she wanted to have a break-up conversation.

“Can we meet somewhere more private?” The woman asked hopefully. Mike smirked.

“Afterwards, we can go wherever you want, but I’m a gentleman - I want to feed you too.” He said, smile widening as Kara blushed at the innuendo. “I’ll pick you up out front at 6?” Without waiting for an answer, he leaned into Kara’s space and pressed a wet kiss to her cheek. “See you later, doll.”

Kara went through the rest of her morning in a daze, until 2pm when she was finally able to sneak away for a lunch break. The bank of public pay phones in the lobby of the building were always busy, and at this hour in the day the line was 2 deep. The company forbade personal calls on work lines, on pain of a sizeable fine, and Kara had no choice but to wait her turn.

She slotted in her coins, and dialled the number by heart, phone pressed to her ear, hand cupping the receiver to offer a little privacy.

“The Angel, Sam speaking?” A voice on the other end crackled.

“Sam, hi, it’s Kara, can you put Lena on please? I’m in a pay booth and don’t have much change.”

“One sec.” A few moments later, a happy sounding voice said, “Hi darling, this is a nice surprise.”

“Hi Lena.” Kara sighed, allowing herself a second to revel in the sound of her lover’s voice. “How’s your day?”

“Good. We had a visit from Mr Jones, but I’ll tell you about that later. Everyone’s just rushing to get things set up for tonight. How’s things there?”

“Fine. I just...” The secretary swallowed. 

“What is is?” Lena said, voice suddenly serious. “Are you ok?”

Kara took a breath. “I’m seeing Monel. Tonight.”

There was silence on the end of the phone. 

“I said I’d meet him at 6pm, so I won’t be home til later. He wants to go somewhere to eat, so can you ask Nia not to put me a dinner out?” Kara continued.

“Why?” The reply came quietly.

“What do you mean?” Kara asked, frowning. Behind her, a woman with a tall beehive and tortoiseshell glasses began tapping her shoe.

“Why are you meeting him?”

Realisation washed through Kara’s body. “No, Lena, it’s...nothing like that. I’m doing it tonight. Having the,” Kara glanced over her shoulder, before whispering, “talk.”

“Oh.” Lena sounded, not quite relieved, still slightly insecure, but not quite as shaken. “Do you want me to be there?”

Kara snorted. “No, Lena, I think that would be a terrible idea. Besides, it’s grand opening tonight, you have to be there!”

“Ok. If you need me, if you need a lift, you can call ok? I’ll come right out.”

“I know Lena. Thank you.” Kara pressed the palm of her hand onto her forehead, dislodging her glasses. She wanted to say more, to reassure the other woman that she was hers and hers alone, but the lobby was busy and it was too much of a risk. In her ear, the pips began to chime, a voice demanding money that Kara knew she didn’t have. “I’m about to be cut off Lena. Everything will be fine, I’ll speak to you-“ The line went dead.

Closing her eyes for a second, wishing this day could be over with already, so that she could be at home, with Lena, tucked up under the butch’s arm and chatting comfortably with their friends. Behind her, the beehive woman clicked her tongue, and cleared her throat, looking at her watch. Kara hung up, and, picking up her purse, made her way back upstairs.

——————-——————————————

The drive to their ‘date’ had been painful. Mike talked enthusiastically about everything and anything as he drove, his hand planted firmly on Kara’s knee, seemingly oblivious to how uncomfortable the woman next to him was. He insisted on holding Kara’s hand as they walked down the street and into the busy, dinner-time diner, while Kara could only think _wrong, wrong, wrong_. 

Inside, he ordered her a milkshake and a burger, and when they arrived, he winked conspiratorially and tipped something amber from a hip flash into the creamy pink liquid. Kara thought longingly of Lena and her Ovaltine, and Sam’s virgin cocktails, wondering how these women she’d known for a few months knew her better than the man she’d worked with for over a year; the man she’d dated; thought she might one day love.

“So,” Mike asked after when their burgers were eaten and cleared away, “how have you been?”

“Good.” Kara said, eyes on the napkin she was tearing into confetti. “Ms Grant has suggested I shadow one of the reporters. She thinks I might be due a career change. And I’ve been super busy helping Lena get the bar set up ahead of reopening.”

“I don’t like how much time you spend at that bar, babe.” He said, reaching across to hold Kara’s hand. “It’s great you’re making new friends, but I’m worried for you.”

Kara pulled her hand back. “You don’t need to worry.”

Monel raised his eyebrows. “The police raided the place less than two weeks ago, Kara. If you had been arrested, if your name had gotten attached to that place, it would ruin everything. Your career, your prospects...all gone just for some acquaintances you barely even know.”

“They aren’t just _some acquaintances_, Monel. They’re my friends. Lena is...is my best friend.” Kara said, hurt written plain in her face. 

Mike sucked his lips into his mouth, nodding slowly. “I just think you’re choosing the wrong battle to fight.” He said finally, carefully. “The people at the bar...I don’t like what’s happening to them either. I liked them just as much as you do, when I met them, and they’re good people. But it’s not our fight, Kara.”

She stared at him, searching his face, and felt little more than frustration - frustration at being taken for granted, frustration at his lack of empathy, frustration with the whole rigged system that told her she had to bow to his opinions. “Monel, I can’t do this any more.”

The man gave a half smile, leaning forwards in his seat to take her hand again. “That’s what I’m saying. Look, I’m not saying we can’t still see them. We’ll pop by in a few weeks to say hi. They’ll be fine without you in the meantime.”

“No, Monel. I can’t do _this_.” Kara emphasised, taking back her hand and gesturing between the two of them. “You’re sweet, and handsome, and everything anyone could want in a man, but you’re just not for me. It’s...” she swallowed. “It’s over between us.”

Mike blinked. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I do mean it.” Kara insisted, her voice firm. “It’s just not going to work.”

They sat a tense silence, as around them more people piled into the already cramped space. 

“Who is it? Who is it who put this into your head?” Monel hissed after a minute. “Because we were fine before and now you’re _dumping_ me?!”

Kara huffed. “It’s not-“

“Someone from the bar, right?” He interrupted bitterly, eyes narrowing. “That damn bouncer, the big guy, right? Or one of those bloody spivs, pushing drugs? You think they’re better than me, those losers and deviants?”

Kara rose to her feet. “I’m not doing this. I’m sorry that you’re hurting, but I can’t sit here and listen to your insults. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.” As she turned to leave, she felt his hand close around her wrist, hard. She turned with a glare, looking pointedly at his large hand, and it’s steel grip around her smaller limb. “You’re a good man, Monel. I know you’re a good man. Please don’t do something that isn’t in your nature.”

Mike blinked, immediately releasing his hold. He looked startled, and very, very sad. “Can I call you?” He asked quietly.

Kara nodded, weakly. “When the dust has settled.” 

She didn’t look back as she walked away, not wanting to see the hurt written on the lonely young man’s face for a moment more. The hurt she’d put there.

—————————————-—————————

The bar was busy for a week night, she saw, as Livewire waved her through the front door. Couples swayed on the dance floor and canoodled in dark corners; Sam and Nia were holding the fort behind the bar, not run ragged like they would have been on a Friday or Saturday, but still kept in continuous motion. To one side, James was taking photographs, looking engrossed in his task, while over towards the juke box, Maggie and Alex were laughing together, eyes creased in mirth.

“She’s in the store room.” 

Kara turned to see Sara, smirking knowingly. Her expression changed as she took in the secretary’s countenance. Kara managed a small smile, a nod, and made her way towards the Staff Only door, ignoring the dance teacher’s concerned frown. It was a relief to make it into the quieter area, the sound of laughter and music muffled by the heavy fire door. 

When she found Lena, the butch was manhandling crates of soda bottles, muttering to herself. She was wearing a brown suit, one that Kara recognised as her ‘special occasion’ outfit, and was very careful to hold the cases and boxes away from her body lest the dust settle on the fabric.

“Lena?” Kara said softly, recognising with mild shock the sound of tears in her voice. 

“Kara?” Lena’s automatic smile fell, and she took a step forwards, her hands coming up to hold the blonde’s biceps, green eyes scanning for any sign of injury. “What’s wrong?”

“I...I did it.” Kara said, lip wobbling. “I broke up with him.”

“Did he say something nasty?” Lena asked with a sympathetic tone. Kara shook her head. Lena’s eyes turned hard. “Did he _do_ something?”

“No.” Kara said quickly. “It was just...horrible. He was so sad, and I feel so guilty.”

The brunette sighed, adjusting her trousers so that she could sit on a crate of beer cans. She pulled a wooden box that had once held wine bottles in front of her, and tapped the top, motioning for Kara to sit.

“Sweetheart, I know it feels like shit right now, but I promise it will feel better.” She said gently, brushing blonde strands of hair away from Kara’s face where they had stuck to the tears she wasn’t aware were falling. “Do you think you’ve made a mistake?”

Kara sat up straight, grabbing her lover’s hands tightly. “No. I want to be with you.” She said, her voice firm. 

“I know, my angel. I want that too. But it’s ok for you to feel upset about what happened with Mike, even if you broke it off for all the right reasons. You care for him, albeit not in the way he wants you to.”

“You aren’t mad that I...that I feel like this, are you?” Kara sniffed.

“I’m not mad, darling. I promise. I was a little insecure, but honestly I just want to make you feel better.” Lena said, shuffling closer so that the other woman was bracketed by her thighs, a hand rubbing Kara’s back soothingly.

“You already are.” 

They sat in the cool dark of the store room for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s warmth, until the door swung open with a _clack!_ and Nia came rushing in. She stopped short on seeing the tableaux.

“Oh, um...Sam’s screaming for those mixers. I’ll just...” tentatively she shuffled round Kara’s back, eyes wide with worry, and grabbed a box of clinking glass bottles. 

“Thank you Nia. We’ll be out soon.” Lena said in a clipped voice. To Kara, she said, more kindly, “How about a stiffener at the bar, love? Or would you rather head upstairs?”

Kara wiped at her face. “A drink might be nice. Just a small one. I saw Alex on the way in too...”

Lena nodded, pressing a sweet kiss to the blonde’s temple. “Come on then, darling. Let’s get you a gin and some sister time.” 

Kara rose to her feet, hands still clasped in Lena’s strong hold, and hesitated. She hated how needy she felt, but couldn’t bear the thought of letting go, of the cold that would follow when she was away from Lena’s side. “Can...can you stay with me?”

Lena smiled warmly, and chucked her under the chin. “Well I happen to be chummy with the boss, so I should think I could skive off. Only for you though.”

———————————————————-

Opening night had gone off without a hitch; they’d been busy right up to closing time, the local scene wrapping tightly around their injured comrade, and Lena had been overjoyed. “Keeps my car safe for another week,” she’d quipped, but Kara knew it was more than that. She’d seen the long hug that Sam and Lena had shared as the older woman left for the night; knew that their hopes had been renewed. 

Lena had shrugged off clean up, promising to sort the mess out the following day, and sent Kara and Nia upstairs while she locked up and ran final checks. The two women brushed their teeth side by side in the bathroom mirror, arms bumping. It was strange to remember that only a few weeks earlier, Kara had viewed the young brunette with barely restrained jealousy. She couldn’t help but feel now, after those few short weeks, she’d gained a younger sister.

“Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant,” Nia said, eyes half-closed in concentration, “Let the dead past bury its dead. Act,— act in the living present. Heart within, and God o’erhead.”

Kara smiled, brow furrowed in confusion. “The book Brainy lent me.” Nia clarified. “It really is good for when you’re struggling. I’ve left it on your bedside table.”

Kara felt her heart warm slightly, reaching to give Nia’s thin forearm a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, Nia.”

The girl shrugged. “We’re family.” She said simply, with such sincerity that Kara couldn’t help but believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Nia recites is called ‘A Psalm of Life’, and it’s lovely. 
> 
> Next time, the bastards are back; Monel does something stupid; Nia and Brainy have a serious talk; and Lena and Kara finally get their Moment. It’s going to get hectic.


	13. Chapter 13

Lena saw the wave of panic in the crowd before she realised anything was wrong.

It was Friday, the second Friday since they’d reopened, and the bar was heaving. On stage, a stud in a white suit jacket with jet black pants was belting out a Sam Cooke track, a twinkle in her eye that Lena knew would break more than one heart that night. Nia and Sam were run off their feet, and Lena herself was collecting glasses and hauling cases of Cherry Bs and barley wine. 

“They’re back!” A woman with a hip mop-top haircut grabbed her arm, looking angry and fearful. Lena felt her heart stop. The cops couldn’t be back, she reasoned, not so soon. She had a fleeting memory of strong hands holding her wrists, of the back of a hairy forearm connecting with her cheek, and felt the overwhelming and uncharacteristic urge to flee. “The fucking queer bashers, they’re outside!”

Lena sagged. This she could deal with. Knew her own strengths and her own abilities against a foe she could fight; with the police, it was like trying to punch joke dummies at a fairground; if you hit one, it would spring back and hit you twice as hard.

“I’ll sort it.” She assured the young woman confidently. Making her way to the Staff Only area, she opened a draw, and fished something out, gingerly putting it in her pocket. Easing through the crowds once again, she passed a man, openly counting through his stash of pills next to the bar. As she went by, he handed two little yellow tablets to a girl of maybe 21, and she nervously pushed a handful of dollar bills into his waiting paw. Lena swallowed the bitter taste it gave her, and continued on her way. Morgan’s dealers would have to wait.

As she stepped out into the cool night air, a half brick narrowly missed her face, hitting the metal door frame with a _thunk_.

“Dykes!” A young sounding male voice screeched out.

Calmly, without hesitation, Lena pulled the .22 revolver from her pocket and levelled it at the nearest man’s head.

“Whoa there boss!” James hissed, holding up his free hand. In his other, a boy was struggling to free himself. He stopped moving when he saw the gun, eyes going wide.

“I’m not one given to violence.” Lena said evenly. “I’ve tried to be fair with you people. I’ve given you enough time to get this little vendetta out of your system. But if you don’t _fuck off_ right now, I’m going to put a hole in your little inbred face.”

“You can’t do that!” The man who had thrown the brick spat, his ivory white skin turning pink.

“I’m a business owner under attack. The police might not like me but no judge in the state would convict a poor, beleaguered venture capitalist for using her second amendment rights.”

“Gaffer, I don’t think-“ Leslie began, taking a careful step forwards.

“We’re protecting the American way of life!” One homophobe growled, dropping the bottle held in his hand. Lena tried not to blanch, hearing the words from Lex’s speech repeated back to her once again.

“Well, go protect it somewhere else.” Lena shrugged with pronounced nonchalance.

Grumbling, the group dispersed. Several of the customers who had been queuing outside pushed forwards towards the safety of the door, but made no move to enter until Lena slipped the safety catch on and put the firearm back in her pocket.

“That went better than expected.” Lena blinked at her staff. James looked nervous. Without another word, Lena went inside, hoping no one had seen how her hands were shaking.

———-—————————————————

Sam caught her as she was leaning on the desk, staring down at the locked draw in which the revolver now sat.

“You brought a fucking _gun_?” She hissed, pointing accusingly at the butch.

“Clearly.” Lena said, straightening up with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh no, don’t you dare use your sass on me, not tonight.” The older woman jabbed an accusing finger into Lena’s shoulder. “You brought a god damn gun into our place of work. What were you thinking?”

“I had to do something.” Lena said, feeling some of the fight leave her. “To protect us.”

Sam barked out an incredulous laugh, turning away with a hand placed over her forehead. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Why? Because I actually bothered to do something to stop these bastards terrorising us?” Lena huffed, folding her arms.

Sam turned with a look on her face. It was a look Lena had rarely seen on her best friend, even at their lowest: disappointment.

“If you think a damn gun is going to help anything at all, you’re further down the rabbit hole than I thought.” Sam stepped forwards. “You scared them off tonight. What about tomorrow? What about at 2 in the morning when I’m leaving? What about next week, when _they_ turn up with guns? What about when they turn up with bigger bloody guns than you have because now you’ve started an arms race?”

“I...” Lena frowned, looking down at the shiny black brogues on her feet. “I didn’t think that far ahead.”

Sam shook her head. “No, of course you didn’t. You’re one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met, Lena Luthor. You’re also a total dummy.” 

Lena stared at the door long after it swung shut behind her friend’s retreating form.

———————————-——————————

Kara was collecting some glasses to help out, a tray in her hands, when she felt arms wrap around her waist. She smiled, leaning back into the warm body behind her. She’d heard there had been some commotion outside but Sam had been reluctant to talk about it, her face like thunder stopping Kara asking twice, and she’d been biding her time until Lena sought her out to seek further information.

On stage, the singer was crooning through an old Frankie Vaughan track, and it made Kara smile, remembering Lena singing the same as she washed up a few nights before.

_When you walk in the garden, in the garden of Eden, with a beautiful woman..._

“She’s better than you, I’ll give her that.” Kara chuckled, giving the person embracing her a teasing bump with her hip, the glasses on the tray in her hands shaking.

“God I missed you too, babe.” The familiar male voice behind her made Kara jump, her heart falling in her chest, as she tried to pull away.

“Monel, what the heck are you doing?” She asked, managing to get far enough away that she could turn in his arms, the tray pressed between them like a buffer. A quarter full sherry glass tipped over and rolled onto the floor.

The man grinned at her blearily, and Kara could smell the stale booze on his breath. Without warning, he yanked the tray from Kara’s hands, shoving it into a nearby table, and pulled the blonde’s lithe body firmly into his arms. Kara was still reeling from the jolt and impact when she realised his lips were pressed to her own, moving firmly against her static ones. Face frozen in shock, she had a moment of panic, the unbidden memory of Lena’s hesitant, respectful kisses making her feel grimy under Mike’s unasked for necking, before she got a hold of herself enough to struggle, pushing against him. He held on tighter, knocking the wind out of her, and pushed his tongue into her mouth. Without thinking, Kara kicked upwards, hard, and the hideous wet pressure on her face disappeared as the man crumpled over.

“Jesus, Kar, what the fuck?” He whimpered, cupping his hand around his privates. 

“You can’t just do that, Monel! It isn’t right!” She gasped, hands on her hips. “You can’t just...just...grab at someone!” Breathing heavily, Kara felt her world turn on its axis; Lena was striding over from the direction of the offices, a look of profound hurt and anger on her face. With barely a second glance, she strode around a confused looking Monel, and stopped immediately in front of her girlfriend. Scared of what she might see, Kara looked down at her high heels, eyes feeling watery. She knew how it must look; knew Lena would feel furious, hurt, betrayed.

“Sweetheart?” The tenderness in Lena’s voice startled Kara from her worry spiral. When her blue eyes met green, she was shocked to see only concern. Her hands hovered over Kara’s shoulder, reluctant to touch without permission. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I just...” Kara glances over her butch’s shoulder to where Monel was straightening up, understanding dawning on his face. Unseen behind him stood Livewire, a calculating expression in her eyes. Poised, Kara thought absently. “He just surprised me.”

Lena smiled sympathetically. “I can see that. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to look after you.”

“I don’t need babysitting Lee, I handled it.” Kara said, trying to force a confidence she didn’t feel, to assuage some of Lena’s pity.

The bar owner chuckled. “Oh I saw that too. You’re a firecracker, Kara Danvers, I’ve _always_ known that.”

Kara grinned, shuffling closer so that Lena’s warm hands could settle on her arms, easing some of the residual fear. 

“You have got to be kidding.” 

They turned to face the man now staring at them with barely restrained revulsion. “Her?” He spat. “You left me for _that_?”

“Get out.” Lena said without emotion, the steel in her voice clear. “I don’t want you here again, do you understand?”

“I mean, come on, Kara, I thought it was bad when I thought you were cosying up with one of the druggies but you’ve shacked up with some bulldyke?” Monel continued as though Lena hadn’t spoken. “This is a joke! She might dress like a man but she doesn’t even have a cock.” 

“Surprisingly, that’s not all there is to romance.” Lena said drily. Some women nearby laughed.

“Just leave, Mike.” Kara said, stepping forwards. “I’m not interested in you or anything you have to say. I thought you were a decent person, at least, but clearly I was wrong.”

“A decent person?” He snorted. “From a woman who went straight from feeling my dick to fingering some dyke? You wait till Cat Grant hears about this, you’ll be out on your lying ass, Kara Danvers!”

“That is, as they say, enough.” A voice enunciated from the left. Turning as one, they saw Brainy standing with his hands steepled in front of him. “It is time for you to leave, Mike, and if you won’t listen to these ladies, I shall be forced to insist on their behalf.”

“Baby, maybe you shouldn’t...” Nia whispered, stepping up to her beau and placing a loving hand on his chest. 

“No darling, I really feel I must.” Brainy insisted, pressing a kiss to her forehead before stepping around her slight frame to stare Monel down.

“You...you...” Mike sputtered. “You’re fucking..._that_?” 

“The nature of mine and Nia’s relationship is not your concern.” Brainy raised his voice, before the mask of calmness once again descended. “Now, once again - please leave.”

“You’re fucking a _guy_!” Monel yelled, gesticulating wildly.

“Screw this.” Livewire rolled her eyes, kicking a steel toe cap into the back of Mike’s knee. As he slumped, she grabbed his collar and hauled him away. “You middle class kids and your incessant _talking_.” she muttered as she dragged the shocked man outside.

The silence that followed was only broken by the sound of Nia’s high heels as she walked away, disappearing up the stairs to the flat. Brainy followed her, calling her name.

By the time he got upstairs, Nia had already locked herself in her bedroom.

Tentatively, he knocked on the door. “Nia darling? It’s me. Can you let me in please?”

“Go away, Karl.” Nia’s voice drifted through the cheap wood, sounding thick with tears.

“I very much do not want to do that, darling.” Brainy sighed, leaning his head against the door. He had never had the feelings he felt for the young woman before; it was too early for it, his rational brain knew, but he was sure this was love. He thought of her every waking second, and quite a few unconscious ones too, and her pain felt like it was his, tears burning his eyes in response. “Nia, please let me in. I’m sorry for what Mike said but please don’t take it to heart. He’s a fool, an unmitigated fool.”

There was a loud sniff on the other side of the door, and the lock slid back. Nia opened the door a crack, her eyes red rimmed. “He was only saying what half the world thinks.”

Brainy frowned. “Then they’re fools too.” Nia looked at him, her big brown eyes damp and sorrowful, and he felt his heart lurch. “Nia, you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You’re smart and funny and beautiful, inside and out, and gods you are kind, even tough the world hasn’t shown you kindness in return. Don’t let men like Mike Matthews tell you that you’re anything less than perfect.”

Nia swallowed. She had known Karl Docks for hardly any time at all in the grand scheme of things, but there was something about his strange quirks and the way he always said exactly what he was thinking that had made her feel things for him she hadn’t felt before. It was a tightrope of sorts, between wanting to throw her battered heart at his feet, and the fear of being used and tossed aside, or worse, used and then torn down, made a joke of. The earnestness in his voice soothed the hurt and self-doubt that Monel’s words had woken in her guts, though, and she remembered the first morning she’d woken up in his arms, sleepy and satiated, and how he had made her feel utterly, unequivocally beautiful.

“Aren’t you...aren’t you worried what people will say?” Nia asked carefully, the lingering panic making her reticent, when all she really wanted to do was fall into Brainy’s arms.

Brainy furrowed his brow. “I could not care less about what people say. I love you, Nia Nal. To me you are perfect. Everyone else can go hang.”

The tears began in earnest then, great gulping sobs that wracked Nia’s slight frame, as she wrenched the door open and threw herself into her boyfriend’s embrace. “I love you too.” She whispered as she pressed their mouths together, the salt from her crying making the kiss slippery. “I love you.” She mumbled. “I love you.” The words were half garbled, but they soothed like balm on an open cut.

———————————————————————

Lena breathed a sigh of relief as she undid her binding, rubbing the flesh exposed abate some of the itchiness from sweating in the tight fabric. Hearing the toilet flush in the en-suite, she quickly grabbed her undervest and threw it on, pulling on an old pair of pyjama bottoms. 

“I am glad tonight’s over.” Kara huffed, walking out of the bathroom in her flowing nightdress, her hair hanging loose and wispy where she’d brushed it out. Lena switched off the light and they slid under the sheets together, shifting until they were tucked close into each other’s body.

They’d slept together every night since they first kissed, wrapped in each other’s arms, but they’d gone no further than hopeful kisses and longing caresses. Lena didn’t mind. She’d wait until Kara was ready, and if she was never ready...well, that’s what right hands are for.

“You know it wasn’t true, don’t you?” Kara whispered when they’d gotten comfortable.

“What wasn’t true, sweetheart?” Lena asked softly, stroking her hand through Kara’s blonde locks.

“About me...touching him. Like that.” Kara rested her hand on Lena’s sternum, tracing over the material of her vest. “Down there.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, love.” Lena said after a moment. “What went before is the past, and we’ve all got one of those.”

“I know but I just...” Kara let out a breath. “Wanted to say. We never got more than kisses and some touches, but never...never that.”

They lay in silence for a time, Lena reluctant to push and Kara trying to chose her words, unsure of how to ask for what she wanted.

“He wanted me to. We’d be in his car and he’d keep asking, trying to move my hand over his...bits. Or try and put his hand under my skirt. He always stopped when I asked, but I always thought it was just an expectation. That I’d give in.” Lena shifted awkwardly in the small bed, trying not to picture it. “You’ve never made me feel like that.”

“And I never will, my love.” Lena assured.

“But the thing is...” Kara said, propping herself up on one elbow and meeting Lena’s gaze with confidence, “with you, I want to.”

Lena shifted so she could see the woman’s full face in the moonlight. “You...want to?”

Kara nodded. Bringing her finger up to trace the butch’s lips, she smiled. “I want to. I want _you_.”

Lena swallowed. “I want you too.”

“Kiss me?” Kara asked, gratified when the brunette did just that. The kiss was warm and soft, but that wasn’t what Kara wanted; she eagerly pushed herself onto Lena’s strong body, deepening the kiss as she wrapped her hands around the woman’s head, trying to pull her infinitely closer. Lena for her part let her hands rest on the blonde’s hips, enjoying the weight. Feeling Kara begin to squirm slightly, subconsciously pushing her lower half minutely into Lena’s seeking friction, Lena allowed her hands to roam, nails dragging down the woman’s back and up her sides. “That feels nice.” Kara whispered as they broke their kiss.

“_You_ feel nice.” Lena smiled, pressing a kiss to Kara’s long neck; feeling the other woman sigh, she dipped out her tongue and dragged the tip up to caress her ear lobe. “You taste good too.”

“Lena, I...” Kara was grinding her hips now, and stopped suddenly, embarrassed. 

Lena pressed lightly, trying to get her to move again. “Don’t stop. I like it. Do you like it?”

“It feels good.” Kara agreed, moving more vigorously.

“Can I...can I touch you?” Lena whispered, fingering the hem of the cotton nightdress. Kara blushed, nodding. “Say It love, I need to hear it.”

“Yes. Touch me. I want it.”

Sliding the fabric over Kara’s pale thighs, until Kara pulled it over her own head, Lena gasped. “You’re even more beautiful that I expected.” She whispered, eyes roaming wherever she could see. She wished she could tip them over to get a proper look, but Kara had begun her movement again, made keener by the lack of fabric now between her nude sex and Lena’s cotton trousers.

“Lee, touch me. Touch me everywhere.” Kara panted, and any of the residual shame at her own desperation disappeared as soon as Lena pressed a wet kiss to her pronounced collar bone, and down to give her full breasts nips and kisses. When she took a nipple into her warm mouth, rubbing teasingly with her tongue, Kara wasn’t sure she’d ever felt anything as good; when Lena’s hands moved to her backside, caressing the toned flesh, she was sure she hadn’t.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart, let me move us.” Lena asked in a gruff voice, gently easing them so that Kara lay on her back, chest heaving. Lena had never in their previous sessions seen the look in Kara’s eyes as she saw now. Desire and unfettered lust and need. It sparked the want already boiling over in Lena’s lower stomach into a practical explosion, and she didn’t stop to think as she pulled her top over her head, shuffling out of her pyjama bottoms so that she was equally exposed. It was only when she turned around, grinning, that she realised that Kara had frozen. 

“Oh my love, is this too much?” Lena asked, trying to cover herself as she moved away.

“Don’t!” Kara gasped, grabbing Lena’s arms. Cautiously, Lena allowed her to move her limbs, pulling them away from her chest and her cunt, eyes wide. Lena tried not to feel self conscious as Kara examined her for a long few moments. Then, out of nowhere, the blonde made a needy gurgling sound, and thrust herself forward into Lena’s lap, pressing her mouth to Lena’s and their bodies close together. “Please.” She mumbled into their kiss. “Please. I need you.”

Lena smiled, gently moving Kara’s legs so that she was straddling her. “Be patient, my love. Be patient.”

They continued to kiss as Lena ran her hands over Kara’s breasts, breathing in the small moan this effected. 

Kara was in heaven, feeling a rare dampness drip down her thighs. She was on fire, every touch lighting something in her that she had barely even glimpsed before.

“Does that feel good?” Lena asked as she moved her hand lower, tickling the thatch of blonde hair between Kara’s legs. “Is this ok?”

“Yes!” Kara groaned loudly, pushing herself forwards as she tried to get Lena’s wandering fingers to where she wanted them. Lena grinned, and moved lower, letting out an audible sigh when she felt a sea of oily wetness waiting for her.

“My god, you feel good.” She hissed, nipping a bite into Kara’s shoulder to tamper her own desire. Running her fingers down to Kara’s entrance, trailing a soft finger there, and bringing it back to coax at the woman’s small clit. Kara jolted as if shocked by electricity, eyes wide, mouth falling open in an ‘O’ of pleasure. “It’s getting me there just touching you.” Lena rasped truthfully, feeling herself throb as Kara once again began to move her hips.

“Lena Lena Lena” the blonde chanted over and over, as the minutes ticked by and Lena worked out what the woman liked. This was always her favourite part of sex; the discovery of her partner’s body - finding their needs and their ticks - taking their pleasure as high as it could go, making it her own.

“Oh,” Kara jumped, staring down at Lena in astonishment, “oh that’s...yes...that’s...”

When Kara came seconds later, she went silent, her breathing stopping as if paralysed by the pleasure threatening to break through her body, before a guttural, feral noise broke forth from her throat and she melted into her partner’s hold.

Lena smiled, littering soft kisses to the other woman’s skin and mapping the contours of her back with the work worn pads of her fingers. “Are you ok?” She whispered after a minute, concern growing at her bedmate’s lengthening silence.

Kara mumbled something into her neck, and Lena had to lean back and ask her to repeat herself.

“Can we do it again?” She asked, a beaming smile breaking across her face.

Lena chuckled. “Oh no, darling. There’s a lot more to do than just that...the worlds our oyster and the night is young...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally.
> 
> Next time: the fight back begins.


	14. Chapter 14

Kara awoke slowly, leisurely, a feeling of wonderful fatigue in her muscles that she had never known. Her bones felt molten, her flesh glowing, and lazily the memories of the night before came back to her. She smiled, turning slightly towards her bedmate.

Sharp green eyes regarded her. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” Kara exhaled, stretching cat-like.

“Did you sleep well?” Lena asked, her fingertips drawing patterns on Kara’s taut stomach.

“Like the dead, I think.” The blonde confirmed. “Did you?”

“A little.” Lena smiled, leaning to press a soft kiss to Kara’s sternum.

“Only a little?” 

“Of course. I had an angel in the bed next to me, I didn’t want to waste a second of that.” Lena winked.

Kara snorted. “Charmer.”

“Only with you.” Lena said, her voice suddenly serious. “Are you ok? With what happened last night?”

Kara frowned. “Because we had sex?”

Lena raised her eyebrows. “Well I wasn’t going to put it quite so bluntly, but yes, are you ok that we had sex?”

Kara smiled, leaning up to press wet, hot kisses to the butch’s neck and collarbone. “Yes.” She whispered, mumbling into her lover’s skin. “More than. In fact...I’d like to do so again.”

Lena chuckled shifting them in the bed so that she could hover over Kara’s naked form. “Would you?” 

“Yes.” The woman breathed out, arching upwards slightly as though presenting herself. Her hand tangled in short brown hair, dragging Lena’s mouth towards her breast. “God, yes.”

Lena smiled around one firm nipple, her tongue coaxing it softly to life. _Who am I to deny that?_ she thought to herself happily.

—————————————————

It was barely 9 in the morning when Lena pulled up outside the familiar bungalow in the suburbs. Some kids were playing roller hockey in the street using sticks and a golf ball, and the sun was shining; twinned with the familiar feeling of total satiation that came from a night of fucking, Lena knew it was going to be a good day.

As she got out of the car, a familiar vehicle caught her eye. It was parked on the road outside the bungalow, and the last time she had seen it had been as she pulled away from the beach parking lot. She smirked, walking up the path and letting herself in with her key.

The house was quiet, but she could hear mumbled, sleepy voices from the kitchen. Slipping off her loafers, she followed the noise quietly, peeking her head around the door.

James stood with his back to the counter, a soft smile on his face; in his arms stood Sam, her hands on his chest, leaning up on her tip toes to press a kiss to the man’s strong jaw. Lena smirked.

“Well, well, well.” Lena said in a loud voice, stepping into the room with a scowl and crossing her arms. “It’s not even 9 in the morning, and here I find my security guard making himself cozy with my bar manager, right there in front of the toaster.”

James jumped, his hands going protectively to Sam’s hips. When he saw the identity of the intruder, his eyes widened.

“Oh, uh, hi. Lena. Good morning.” He stuttered, uncharacteristically nervous. Carefully, trying to be surreptitious, Lena watched the man move Sam to one side, out of his reach. 

“Don’t you _good morning_ me.” Lena growled, striding forwards until she stood nose to nose with James. Given the height difference, she had to crane her neck significantly. “I let you into this little work family of ours and here you are, swooping in and taking advantage of my poor, innocent bar manager.”

“No!” He said quickly, looking to Sam for support. The other woman just rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t like that. It isn’t what you think.”

“Oh?” Lena scoffed. “Then tell me this, Mr Man. What are your intentions towards my best friend?”

James blinked. “What?”

“I said,” Lena repeated, a laugh playing around her lips that she could no longer hold in, “what are your intentions- oh you know what, I can’t.”

Sam chuckled, flicking her friend with the end of a tea towel. “You never could hold in a giggle.”

“I don’t giggle!” Lena exclaimed, giggling as she moved to sit on a stool. “It was his face - I was worried he was going to pass out.”

“You...you were having me on? You _knew_?” James asked, bewildered.

“Of course I knew, I’m not bloody blind.” Lena wrinkled her nose. “Where’s Ruby?”

“Getting ready in her room.” Sam shrugged, pulling a cup from an overhead cupboard and filling it with coffee. “In her own words, she was sick of watching us making lovey eyes at each other over the breakfast table.”

“I don’t blame her.” Lena laughed, accepting the coffee from her friend.

Sam narrowed her eyes. “You seem in a good mood today.”

“Of course, business is booming, the sun is shining.” Lena grinned, sipping her drink.

“You got pressed didn’t you?” Sam said bluntly. Next to her, James spat his coffee out.

Lena rolled her eyes. “I certainly did not.”

“Thank god.” James muttered.

“I was the one doing the pressing.” Lena clarified, watching the man with amusement as he groaned loudly.

“You old fox.” Sam chuckled. “So where is the poor thing and why on Earth are you up at this time in the morning? ‘The morning after the night before’.” She quipped, waving her hands theatrically.

“_Kara_ had plans with Alex.” Lena sighed wistfully. “So I thought it would be a good time to pop and see my best friend.”

“I do not want the details, ok.” Sam said quickly, holding both hands up.

“Good, because I do not want to give you them.” Lena sniffed. “I actually wanted to discuss something else, for which James might be able to help.”

“I’m listening.” Sam said, leaning on the counter and folding her arms. 

“I’ve seen you taking photos at the bar, James.” Lena said without preamble, regarding the bouncer with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. It’s a goldmine for a photographer.” James shrugged. “But I always asked permission and the pictures won’t go further than my darkroom, I guarantee it.”

“What if I wanted them to?” Lena leaned back in her chair, a calculating expression on her face.

“Sorry?” James asked with a frown. “I don’t understand.”

“We’ve spent our lives hiding in the shadows.” Lena said carefully, her eyes focused on her coffee cup. “Always in the dark. It’s that dark that allows men like Lex and Morgan Edge to define how the public see us, and take advantage of our vulnerability. I’m sick of it.”

“Ok?” James continued, drawing out the word.

“I want to publish the photos you took. I want to go public about the nature of the bar.”

“You cannot be serious?” Sam asked incredulously. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Lena responded mildly. “Kara has agreed to approach Cat Grant to pitch the article.”

“Lena, it’s a risk.” Sam said, biting her thumbnail.

“It is. But it’s one I think worth taking.” Lena said, eyes boring into her friend’s. They appeared to be having a silent conversation.

“What about the women in the pictures?” James asked. “I won’t betray their trust.”

Lena sighed, dragging her gaze from Sam’s face. “I’m offended you think I would either, James. We’d need to approach each and every one before we go to print, get their explicit approval to use their image, and ensure they understand the potential consequences. I need to know, before I go forwards, that you’re both onboard.”

There was a long silence, James and Sam looking at each other pointedly.

“I’m in.” James said eventually. “I’ll give you whatever support I can.”

Lena exhaled. “Thank you, James.”

“Lee...” Sam said, her voice dripping with apology. “I want to help where I can, I’ll talk to the girls and whatever else you need, but I can’t be involved. I can’t have my face out there. I can’t have people knowing about me.”

“It’s ok, Sam. I understand.” Lena said, standing to move closer to her friend. “Ruby comes first, right?”

Sam nodded, reaching to place a tender hand on her friend’s forearm, her thumb running circles on the cotton sleeve.

“Ruby comes first in what?” A little voice asked from the kitchen doorway. Ruby stood with hands on her hips, looking confused.

“I said I’d take us out for ice cream.” Lena lied seamlessly. “You get first choice, but only if James drives.” She added cheekily

Ruby nodded, but her eyes were firmly on her mother’s pretty face. _Not on my watch_, the child thought sternly. 

——————————————-

Kara stood in front of the office door, the brass name plate goading her. She’d been standing there for 6 minutes, clutching the Manila envelope to her chest, trying to get the nerve up to enter. She knew it was the optimal time to approach the subject; Cat Grant was a formidable woman, not known for her understanding nature, but she was most ameanable, if anyone would ever use that word to describe her, immediately after lunch. It was now or never.

“Kiera, either come in or get back to work.” A sharp voice sounded behind the closed office door. “You’re making me uncomfortable with the weight of your loitering.”

The office was calm and quiet, the wrapper from the sandwich and cardboard box of salad abandoned on the edge of the huge desk. Ms Grant didn’t look up from where she was hunched over a typed document, fountain pen in hand.

“Ms Grant?” Kara asked nervously.

“What is it, Kiera?” The older woman asked with an exasperated tone. “I have a meeting in 39 minutes, as well you know.”

“I...” Kara swallowed, and took a deep breath. “I wanted to pitch a story.”

Cat looked up, her eyes steel hard. “_You_ want to pitch a _story_ to _me_?”

Kara nodded fervently. Cat sighed, gesturing to the seat across the desk from her and leaning back in her huge swivel chair. “You have 3 minutes.”

Kara rushed forwards, all but jumping into the chair and emptying the Manila envelope onto the well-polished mahogany of the desk. Photographs spilled out, 4 of them, and Cat’s gaze tracked them as they slid across the desk.

“My friend owns a bar downtown, near the docks. It’s just a little hole-in-the-wall place, you wouldn’t think it anything special. But the clientele is almost entirely made up of women. Women who...” Kara inhaled again, and ploughed on. “Women who love other women. This bar, The Angel, is its own little haven - it’s own little world, with its own rules and mores. The world is changing and we need to write about it, to document this incredible little place and the women who revolve around it while we have the chance. And I...I want you to publish it, Ms Grant. I want your reputation to hold it up so it gets the respect it deserves. Not as a scandal piece, but a real narrative of our social history. We have a really world class photographer already situated there and...and...I could write it if you need. I just want to capture it before it all disappears.”

Cat steepled her fingers unblinking. “We don’t do hospitality reviews, Kiera.”

Kara blinked. “I’m not talking about a review, Ms Grant. I’m talking about an in-depth look into the hidden world of the homosexual.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. 

“I have had an interesting conversation about you today Ms Danvers.” Cat said, still staring at her secretary with an unreadable expression. “What do you think that could have been about?” 

“I don’t know, Ms Grant.” Kara said, a dangerous suspicion starting in her mind. _He wouldn’t..._

“Well, allow me to drop a small clue, see if it helps. It was with Mr Matthews, who I understand until recently was your...beau?”

“Ok?” Kara said slowly, trying for wilful ignorance even as her blood was running cold and fear was clouding her mind.

“He wanted to inform me that my secretary, who I have placed a lot of trust in, who I have allowed private and unfettered access to myself and my personal space, is a deviant. Or rather has been lured into deviancy by the wiles of a coven of sapphists who, would you believe, lurk in a drinking establishment down by the docks.”

“Ms Grant-“ Kara began. Cat held her hand up, silencing her assistant.

“And now _You_ come strolling in here less than 2 hours later, trying to get CatCo Media to publish an exposé on the merits and intricacies of such a thing.”

“Ms Grant, I understand how this looks, but I can assure you -“

“No, Ms Danvers, I can assure _you_, as I assured Mr Matthews,” Cat said, rising from her seat, “that this publication is a stalwart of American values and that I am a woman of great, diverse experience. I did not fall with the last shower, and I will not be treated as such.”

“Please, I -“ Kara began, feeling panic welling in her throat.

“I want no less than a thousand words, plus pictures, and I want it by next Thursday.” Cat finished, glaring at her assistant. “And if I find so much as a spelling error, you’ll be back in the post room before you can say ‘Radcliffe’.”

Kara blinked, struggling to keep up. “I...I was never in the post room...”

Cat sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Get out, Kiera. Get me that article, and for gods sake, bring me some paracetamol, you’ve given me a headache.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here ends any realism on the harsh reality of being LGBTQ or in a mixed race relationship in 1963 America. The world is a terrible place right now, and I’ve decided on making the 60s gay friendly from here on in - or at least, on making it easier to fight for who you are. BOOYAH.


	15. Chapter 15

The door slamming open had Lena scrabbling for the sheets, pulling the cotton over Kara’s bare lap where moments before her head had been buried. 

“I am so sorry!” Nia shrieked from where she stood in the entrance to Lena’s bedroom, covering her eyes with the magazine she held as a blush burned her cheeks puce. “I totally didn’t think to knock!”

The two lovers scrambled to make themselves presentable, Kara pulling her night dress back on and Lena, already practically ready for the day, wiping at her face and trying to find a button-up shirt to throw on over her vest. Kara was having a hard time holding in her laughter, and as annoyed at the interruption as she was, Lena thrilled to see the confidence blossoming more and more in her lover as their romance built.

“It’s fine, you can look now.” Lena said finally in an exasperated voice, running a hand over her unkempt hair to flatten it.

Nia opened her eyes, sparkling and alert, and held out the glossy magazine. “It’s here.”

“It’s here?” Kara said, shoving passed her girlfriend to get close to the brand new copy of Catco Magazine, any hint of awkwardness gone in her excitement. “Oh my gosh, look, Lena! We’re in here!” 

Lena leaned in, peering over the blonde’s shoulders to get a better look. A double page spread, complete with expensive colour photographs, all about the bar and National City’s lesbian scene. Skim reading, Lena frowned a little, noticing that Cat had edited Kara’s words to be more salacious, more eye catching. _More sexy_, she thought with a mental eye roll. But the tone remained respectful, and that was more than she could hope for.

“_The enigmatic owner, Lena Luthor, walks with a swagger more akin to a bandelero of the silver screen than an American small business owner_,” Kara read with a wrinkle of her nose “_and oversees the clientele of sapphists and misfits with a tender eye._ I did not write that bit, but it’s pretty good. I can’t wait for the others to see this.”

It had been hard, getting women to commit to having their faces and their words nailed down in hard print. They’d spent the better part of a week tracking down the people in James’s pictures, and asking their permission to use their likenesses. A few had refused, and Lena didn’t blame them. The risk was so high; Lena herself had almost lost everything for refusing to hide who she was, and she’d had the safety net of money and privilege, even if it had been vastly reduced when she was cut off. The patrons at her bar, the staff – they didn’t have that. But she’d been shocked by the number who had readily agreed, even knowing that it could mean the end of jobs and the severing of family ties. Knowing that it could mean physical danger. _”My Bernie gets up every day and wears who she is on her sleeve,”_, Lena recalled a femme named Martha insisting, as they smoked cigarettes in their dingy basement flat, _”I want to help, and I don’t want to hide anymore. If that means opening up a can of worms, so be it.”_ And that had been that, summed neatly up for the most part; people were sick of hiding; they were sick of being scared and taking their licks. 

“Nia, can you do me a favour?” Lena asked, buttoning up her shirt. Nia nodded eagerly. “Can you go down to the news stand and buy as many copies of this as they have? I’m going to organise a party to celebrate. A big one. I want the grapevine buzzing with what we’ve done here. I want Lex to choke on his morning coffee and Morgan Edge frothing at the mouth. I want everyone to know we’re out in the open.”

“Do you think advertising it like that will be safe?” Kara asked with a calculating expression. Lena shrugged, putting on a show of bravado.

“It will be what it will be, darling. But I refuse to cower here any longer, hiding behind these walls while the sharks come and take bites out of me. I won’t be offended if you want to sit this one out, my love.” 

Kara looked shocked, eyes widening before pointing emphatically at the paper held in her hands. “I put my name to this. My face is in these photographs. I’m all in, Lena.”

“You know I am.” Nia said with a small shrug, trust glistening in her eyes.

Lena nodded, smiling softly at her friends. “Good. Then let’s go give them hell.”

\------------------------------------------------ 

There hadn’t been enough copies to go around. The article was slowly lighting up the city, both for the better and, Lena knew, for the worse, and as it gathered momentum, they’d been stuck with the copies from the local news stand and little else. Lena had made sure to gift a copy to each of the people who had volunteered their likeness and their words first, and the bar was packed with women crowding around copies of the National City Post’s sister magazine, pointing out their friends and slapping each other’s backs. The air was heavy with pride and banter, and the tills were ringing ten a minute as drink flowed freely. Lena wanted to be happy; she wanted to be excited and feel the thrill of victory that was hanging palpably over The Angel like lilac mist. She couldn’t. Lena Luthor liked to win, but she’d played enough chess in her life to know that the game wasn’t over until it was over. 

“What’s your move, Lex?” She mused under her breath, surveying her kingdom from the edge of the stage as though expecting her brother to be hiding amongst the cheap barroom furniture.

“How are you feeling about everything?” A familiar voice whispered close to her ear, arms wrapping around her waist. Lena sighed, breathing in Kara’s familiar perfume, calming at the comfort her presence provided.

“How do you always know when I’m scheming?” Lena said with a smile.

“I watch you.” Kara answered simply. “I memorise you.”

“Do you?” Lena said with a puzzled tone.

“Is that odd? Am I being odd?” Kara asked, scrunching up her nose as her lover turned in her arms.

“Not at all, darling. I love your honesty.” Lena smiled reassuringly, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend’s jawline. “If you must know, I’m trying to work out what Lex’s response to this will be.”

Kara bit her lip. “Nothing good, I expect. But we’ll handle it.”

“Will we?” Lena said with amusement.

“Yes,” Kara agreed, giving the butch a small, teasing shake, “_we_ will.”

As if on cue, a crash sounded behind them, on the floor of the bar, cutting off Lena’s laugh. Turning, they saw Leslie, a look of fury on her face; in her hands, a heavy-set, greasy looking man was pinned down to one of the tables, writhing. Lena recognised him as one of Morgan Edge’s drug dealers. Leslie, not even breaking a sweat at keeping the interloper in check, looked up questioningly into her boss’s hard green eyes, and when Lena nodded, the struggling dealer was promptly hauled to the exit and thrown into the night. From the street outside, the sound of angry, slurred shouting could be heard.

“Was that Dodgy Dave?” Kara asked with a frown.

“It was.” Lena answered evenly.

“Isn’t he with Morgan Edge?” Kara’s frown deepened.

“He is.”

Kara raised her eyebrows, glasses sliding slightly down her nose. Lena thought she looked adorable and fierce, but judged that her opinion wouldn’t be welcomed in that moment. Not with the sound of Dave still screaming outside echoing over the music and Sam righting fallen furniture from the scuffle.

“Well do you think that was the best idea?” The blonde asked, her hands coming to rest on her own hips.

“I think several pieces are already in motion, and I’ve decided to take the high ground before the enemy knows what’s coming.” Lena said, a note of challenge in her voice.

“Lena?” Breaking eye contact with her lover, Lena allowed her gaze to drift to the woman standing next to them, one foot on the stage and hands pushed into the pockets of her leather jacket. She looked anxious. Behind her, Alex stood with an expression of stone, her unblinking brown eyes focused solely on the bar owner.

“Yes, Maggie?” Lena said calmly; Kara recognised her Luthor façade falling into place. Gone was the woman who held her close at night, or who had danced around the flat at beating James in a furious poker game. This was _business_.

Maggie’s eyes flickered to Kara. “Its ok, you can say what you need in front of Kara. There are no secrets here anymore.”

“I’ve managed our situation with the money you gave me.” Maggie said with a terse nod. “The top brass have agreed that they’ll leave you and the bar alone for a week. Just one. After that, all bets are off, and between you and me, Lena, I don’t fancy our chances. Your brother has the force on a pretty tight leash, and I think he’s ready for a fight.”

Lena breathed in deeply, patting the Latina fondly on the shoulder. “Thank you Maggie. A week will be more than enough.”

Maggie looked unconvinced, her eyes searching the butch’s face for something, some sign or hesitation. She found none, only the Luthor game-face, awash of confidence. “Ok, chief. You’re the boss.”

“Do you have a plan?” Alex brashly interrupted, folding her arms over her chest.

“I do.” Lena said, straightening to her full height.

“Care to disclose?” Alex said coolly after a drawn out pause.

“Not particularly.” Lena said. Next to her, Kara slipped her hand into the waistband of Lena’s trousers, giving a warning tug and murmuring her lover’s name. Lena sighed. “Wheels are in motion, Alex. I know I don’t necessarily have a right to ask it of you, but I need you to trust me.”

“With the safety of my sister?” Alex pushed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.” Lena answered simply. “While I have breath in me, I won’t let a thing happen to her.”

“I don’t trust you, Lena.” The older Danvers said, holding up a finger to silence her sister’s budding protest. “But I do trust Kara, and Maggie. So I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. Don’t make me regret it.”

“Perish the thought.” Lena said lightly, ignoring the eye roll from the woman in front of her. “Why not go grab a drink? I think we’ve all earned a night to enjoy ourselves. Tell Sam it’s on the house.”

Kara watched as Maggie dragged her sister away, then turned to face her partner with a suspicious glint in her blue eyes. “Where did you get that kind of money, Lee?”

Lena chuckled, rubbing a hand over her heavily pomaded hair. “Well, the bad news is we’re going to be walking a lot more, darling. I sold the Bel Air.”

Kara gasped. “But you love that car!”

Lena sighed. “I did, but I love you and this place more. Its just a car. I’ll get another one, when the dust settles.”

Kara shook her head. “Got to grease the wheels somehow, I suppose. But it’s a shame.”

Lena laughed, a light, tinkling sound. Nearby, the juke box changed records, the whirring drowned out by the noise of clinking glasses and chattering patrons. _Only the lonely…._ Roy Orbison crooned. Wreathed in smoke and half hidden by the dimmed house lights, Lena Luthor, owner of The Angel, pulled Kara Danvers, newly-promoted cub reporter at The National City Post, into her arms. Outside, the plotting and scheming and whispering of wicked men carried on into the darkness; inside, sheltered by dancing couples and the lilt of music, life carried on, song by song, kiss by kiss.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Ms Luthor.”

Lena looked up from her paper with a start. She was sat on the back step of the bar, smoking a cigarette and enjoying the early morning sunshine through the haze of her hangover. “Mr Jones!”

Rising, she shook the older man’s hand warmly, before retaking her seat, gesturing across to an upturned crate. John took the seat slightly awkwardly, folding his body into position and adjusting his long trench-coat to keep dirt from his pants.

“You’ll have to forgive me, we were celebrating last night and I may have over-indulged.” Lena gestured apologetically to her tatty moleskin trousers and faded fisherman’s sweater. “Did you happen to see the bar was featured in the Catco magazine?”

“I did.” The detective said with an awkward smile. “Congratulations.”

Lena snorted. “Indeed. But I think that’s not why you came to see me?”

“It is not.” John leaned forwards, resting his forearms on his knees. “I followed up on the lead your friend Siobhan gave you.”

Lena nodded. “I thought you might have. I half expected you last night.”

“It was late by the time I got back, I didn’t want to intrude.” 

Lena plucked another cigarette from the pack, before offering one to John. He graciously accepted, letting Lena light the stick with a match before continuing. “We’ve got them.”

“For definite?” Lena asked quickly, eagerly.

“For real.” John said. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a single photograph. Lena took it between shaking fingers. There, in clear, defined black and white was Morgan Edge, shaking hands with an unmistakable Benjamin Lockwood. In front of them was a crate, from which a pair of goons unloaded packets of what could only be drugs, piling them carefully into a black van. Standing between the two men, looking uncomfortable at being so close to the docks and the stench of poverty, was Lex. It was an uncharacteristic slip up, and Lena felt a quickly quashed pang of anxiety at how this had come to pass.

“We got them.” Lena said, her voice shaking before she remembered herself. “Thank you for this, Mr Jones. Really.”

“It’s a pleasure, Ms Luthor.” John said with a rare grin. “You promised me you would take them down, and I’ve given you a smoking gun. I’m trusting you on this.”

“And I won’t let you down.” Lena said, carefully wrapping the image in her handkerchief. John took a final drag on his cigarette, flicking the butt onto the ground and rising to his feet. “I have to know, Mr Jones.” Lena asked as the man turned to leave, putting his trilby on his head. The detective stopped, looking at her quizzically. Lena took it as an invitation and ploughed ahead. “You said this was personal for you too. Why?”

John hesitated, squinting out into the street. When he spoke, it was in a steady voice. “Do you know what I did when I was a young man, Ms Luthor?” Lena shook her head, no. “I worked for the government. Narcotics.”

“Oh?” Lena asked, not seeing the link.

“I was working on a case against your brother; close to nailing his coffin, too. You would have been no more than 15 then.” John swallowed, and tipped his hat back on his head, still staring into the road. “They burned my house down with my family in it. Used a young blackshirt to do the deed, I found out later. One Ben Lockwood.”

“My god.” Lena whispered in horror. 

“Don’t let me down, Ms Luthor. Get them bastards, and don’t you let them break you like they broke me.” Lena watched frozen as John strode away, the photograph feeling suddenly ice cold in her lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure I'm happy with how this is turning out but I'll keep going - constructive feedback welcomed.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW here for a fair bit of homophobic and sexist language, team.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Luthor.”

Lena smiled, her green eyes tracking her guest as he strode across the floor. “Morgan, always a pleasure, although you are a little late.”

The gangster looked half-wild; his grey hair was fraying out of its greasy confines, and his coat flapped open, hanging off at the shoulder as though thrown on in haste. He stomped up to the stage, where Lena sat casually smoking a cigarette, her legs loosely crossed and her suit jacket folded on the table next to her. She looked carefree, and it was clear it was driving Morgan Edge up the wall.

“Don’t you ‘Morgan’ me, you dumb Jack.” He growled. “I nearly wasn’t going to come at all, being summoned like a bell boy to this hole.”

“Sit.” Lena said with an eerie smile, gesturing to a seat. Morgan hissed, grabbing the chair and pushing it violently skittering across the dance floor on its four legs. From behind Lena, James stepped into the light; Lena held up a hand, and he melted backwards. 

“Brought your guard dogs, have you?” The older man sneered, eyes finally taking note of his surroundings. James and Leslie flanked their boss, looking ready for a fight; leaning on the bar, a woman he didn’t recognise with olive skin and ice blue eyes was watching the scene with amusement, her expensive clothes looking out of place in the dingy barroom. Next to her stood a blonde Morgan vaguely recognised as Lena’s meek piece. She didn’t look meek now, with hands on her hips and fire burning behind her glasses. He swallowed, gaze dragging back to the owner.

Lena raised an eyebrow. “James and Leslie? Oh no, my associates are just here for the aesthetics.”

“And them?” Morgan pointed at the two feminine women loitering at the bar. The brunette laughed, looking overjoyed.

“Oh, that is Lucy Lane, my lawyer, and Kara Danvers, a reporter with The Post.” Lena waved a hand. “They’re the real muscle.”

Morgan snorted. “How so?”

“Well mainly because they’re both upstanding citizens here on behalf of their very well known, very respectable employers, and I want you to know, once our little parley is over, that they know every dirty detail. I want you to lie awake thinking about it. I want you to consider it every time you step a toe out of line and to sweat about it.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think you’ve got a damn thing on me.” Morgan scoffed, but behind his bolshy façade, Lena saw a crack of nervousness. Lena grinned wider and stubbed her cigarette out in the ash tray. Then she brought her other hand above the table, and Morgan saw that she held a rectangle of paper in it. His eyes followed the movement carefully. “A photo? You think I’m worried about anything you could have against me? No one will listen. You’re just some pervert with a grudge.”

Lena didn’t react but placed the photograph image side up on the tabletop, sliding it across. Edge’s eyes widened comically.

“I think,” She said quietly, “they will. Now. Sit.”

Looking sell shocked, Edge reached for the chair he had thrust away only moments before and sat down with a slump. “How much?” He asked, face pale.

Lena’s smile vanished. “Nothing. You have nothing I want, and I have everything I need to run you out of town.”

“It’s just a photo. At worst, a couple of years in the slammer and all will be forgiven.”

“Hard to be forgiven when my brother and Benjamin Lockwood have chopped you into 12 pieces and scattered you across the Western Seaboard for letting the side down.” Lena said without mirth. “And before you get any funny ideas, _Mr Edge_, you should know that there are multiple copies of this picture currently winging their way across the country for…safe keeping.”

“What do you want, Luthor?” Edge hissed. On his forehead, sweat had begin to bead despite the coolness of the room.

Lena picked up her coffee cup, swirling the liquid inside thoughtfully. “I want you to go and tell my brother.”

“What?” The man laughed, his eyes disbelieving. “You’re crazy.”

Lena chuckled politely. “No, I’m not. I’m a respectable businesswoman. Everyone in this city is buzzing with my name and The Angel on their lips. Do you know what that gives me?” Morgan looked at her with a scowl, the pieces slotting together in his brain. “Immunity.” Lena finished, placing her cup into its saucer with a _clink_.

“Temporary immunity.” Edge snarled, his hands tightening on the arms of his seat.

“Temporary enough to crush the whole stinking lot of you.” The butch smiled. Then she tilted her head. “But I’m a reasonable woman, so here’s my offer to you. You go and tell my brother what I’ve got on him, and I’ll give you 24 hours to get yourself very, very far away from here, where the authorities can’t get to you.”

“You think the feds give a shit what I get up to?” Edge snorted.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Lena didn’t break eye contact, until the older man looked away, shifting in his chair. “You may go.”

“You fucking s-“ Morgan Edge seethed, before being gripped by James’s rough hand around the collar and dragged out of his chair. Lena watched the scene unfolding without emotion. As the door closed and Edge’s indignant shouts faded to nothingness, an eerie silence descended on the room.

“Never a dull moment with you, Lena.” Lucy said, raising her eyebrows teasingly. As one, the collective in the bar released a breath.

Lena shrugged, getting to her feet. “What can I say Lucy, I like to keep it exciting.” She walked slowly over to the jukebox, allowing the thrill of the moment to run through her while she gazed the track list. 

“What now?” Kara asked stepping next to the music player, a protective hand pressed into her butch’s lower back. Lena hit the selection button before turning to face her. The blonde looked concerned, but fierce.

“We grab a drink, and we wait. Did you get everything?” Lena asked; Kara waved her notebook with a little smile, her secretary’s shorthand covering the page. “Good.”

Behind her, the record started playing. _You don’t own me, I’m not just one of your many toys…_

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The wait had been long. Both James and Leslie had insisted on hanging around, fearing retribution from Morgan, and were engaged in a friendly game of cards. Lucy had insisted on talking Lena through endless tedious legal pitfalls she might come upon during the next phase of the plan, their heads close together in a way that, weeks earlier, would have set jealousy afire in Kara’s stomach. It was testament to the strength of her and Lena’s bond that all she felt was reassured to have an advocate like Lucy on their side. Kara herself had been left largely to her own devices, drinking cup after cup of bitter coffee, and waiting to find out what happened next.

It was almost funny to think of how things had changed. When Kara thought of the person she was before that night at The Angel when she first saw Lena, it was almost impossible to tie her to the woman she was now – the strong, confident, unashamed woman who had swallowed her fear and grabbed for everything she could ever want. It would have been easy to just lay the credit for that at Lena’s feet, but in truth, Kara knew it was more than just her love for the indomitable businesswoman that had given her the courage to leave Monel, to talk Cat Grant into giving her a sensational story, to feature her image in a national magazine as a lesbian. It was as though the steps she’d taken towards accepting herself as different, as accepting that she wasn’t the straight-laced all American girl she had forced herself to be, had in turn cut the self-woven ties that held her back. She wasn’t scared anymore. She didn’t need to fit in, because the truth was, she never had. She’d always bent herself to someone else’s opinion of how she should be, for as far back as she could remember: walking down the street with her mother and the yellow patch showing on her coat; sat quietly at an English breakfast table, silent for fear her accent would be an embarrassment; in the back on Monel’s car, trying to keep the disgust tempered down because she was expected to want him. Being in the bar, surrounded by men and women who lived their lives for _themselves_, the opinions of the rest of the world be damned, had been like putting on glasses and seeing clearly for the first time.

As she was helping herself to another cup of over-brewed coffee, Kara looked up as the main door opened. In the doorway stood Jo Davenport, blinking in the gloom as her eyes adjusted. In a flash, Lena was on her feet, stalking over to the other butch, her eyes questioning. “Well?”

Jo sucked in a breath, her cheeks red, running a hand through her slick hair. She looked, Kara thought, slightly ruffled, as though she may have rushed over in a hurry. The blonde frowned, thinking of Morgan Edge and his unbuttoned coat. “He wants to see you. Thirty minutes. The old Orion shipyard off the holding road by Third.”

Lena smiled and turned slowly away, outwardly calm, but when her eyes met Kara’s, there was a kind of stoicism in the green depths that only came with fear. The butch nodded, and Kara knew the game was on. It was time to play her part.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The Orion shipyard had been one of the most successful in the city in the 1800s, but a series of poor management choices and bad investments had left business dwindling until even the industrial push of the war effort couldn’t save the company from going under. Now, it was a haunted, silent place, sandwiched between the still living bodies of its comrades, the voices of the workers and the clanging of steel drifting over the now dry dock and concrete and making the air thick with forgotten memories.

Lena didn’t look around as she stepped out of Jo’s beige Camero, adjusting her suit jacket and tie. She knew that somewhere amongst the long-rusted machinery and collapsed outbuildings, James would be watching, his camera on hand in case anything went wrong. Strapped to her inside leg, the brand-new Philips compact recorder felt heavy, and she had a moment of paranoia that it could be seen under the loose navy fabric of her dress pants. Across the lot, a large black Bentley sat, its back windows covered by plush purple curtains. She began to walk towards the vehicle, Jo falling in time with her steps. A small part of her – the scared, young, childish part – felt aggrieved that she’d come alone. Far stronger was the feeling of relief that no matter what happened, her friends would be safe. Kara would be safe. 

As Lena got within a hundred metres of the black car, the well-groomed chauffeur jumped out, opening the back door with a flourish. Lena felt her breath hitch as her brother unfolded, slowly, like a spider exiting a hole. In response, Lena tilted her chin up higher, not faltering in her forwards motion.

He looked much as she remembered him; tall and thin, his bald head and almost relaxed magnanimous expression betrayed by calculating eyes. 

“Lex.” Lena said coldly, drawing to a halt a few feet away. Jo had also stopped, the smell of her aftershave and slightly laboured breathing alerting Lena that the henchwoman was right behind her. 

“Lena.” Lex said, his voice welcoming, as though her were speaking to an old business acquaintance rather than the sister he cut out of his life entirely. “How have you been?”

“Fine.” Lena responded, tone even. “What do you want?”

Lex chuckled, shaking his head. He turned his head to where two goons with sidearms at their hips were watching the scene with well-trained disinterest. “That’s my sister to a tee, always straight to the point.”

“We said our fond farewells years ago, Lex. Let’s cut out the happy family act and cut to the chase.”

Lex exhaled slowly, tilting his head. Lena raised an eyebrow, not breaking eye contact. “Still a brave little thing, aren’t you Lena. Just like the fiery little kitten father brought home all those years ago, all claws and angry tears.” Lena didn’t respond, and the older man sighed deeply as though hurt. “People are talking about you.”

“Are they?” Lena said with a smirk. “All good things I hope.”

“You’re causing me a lot of problems.” Lex continued, using the tone he might use to talk to a petulant child. “You still carry my name. When I gave you that money, I expected you to honour certain conditions related to it. Conditions like disappearing from public view.”

“Well, we all know that that went out of the window, brother of mine, when you dumped Colin Donaldson’s body practically on my doorstep.”

Lex narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if I had done such a thing, _sister_, I would think it would be an unbelievably bad idea for you to provoke me. If I could do something so despicable to someone who actually benefits me, imagine what I could do to a queer little thorn in my side.”

“Yes,” Lena said mildly, as though they were discussing current affairs or football, “I got that message when you posted poor Mr Donaldson’s finger through my letterbox.”

“Obviously, you didn’t get it clearly enough.” Lex responded curtly. 

“The thing I can’t work out, Lex, is why you even care what I do.”

“I care only in so far as you are tarnishing my image.” Lex waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t think I’m naive. The baying masses hanging on my every word aren’t there for me. They aren’t somehow overawed by my raw animal magnetism.” He laughed softly at his own joke before continuing. “They’re there because I’ve promised to cleanse this city of deviants like you. And if that’s what it takes to take power over this petty, filth-ridden city, believe me, I will waste no time in exterminating every last one of you.”

“Well, I can see why you didn’t want to go with that campaign slogan.” Lena quipped. Lex smiled, nodding. Then he clicked his finger, and one of the bodyguards at his side drew their weapon. 

“I’m sorry it came to this, Lena. But really, you have no one to blame but yourself.” Lex said sadly, raising his hand, ready to instruct the goon to shoot.

Lena folded her arms, looking unimpressed. “I have a picture of you which is sat in Cat Grant’s office right this moment. If I don’t return within 45 minutes, its going to be splashed all over the evening papers.”

Lex scoffed, but lowered his hand. “Why should I care? Fame is nothing new to _me_, sister.”

“No, of course, but this one won’t be gracing the society pages, Lex. It’s a picture of you cavorting with a know criminal and a barely legal Nazi. Right here, actually.” She gestured around at the desolate docks. “Cocaine was it? Heroin? There were definitely some illegal weapons. Would you like to see?” Slowly, so as not to startle the man holding the gun, Lena reached into her inside pocket, extracted the glossy photo, and threw it at Lex’s feet. It drifted down slowly, landing right-side up. Lex squinted at the image, then looked up with barely restrained hatred, the façade falling away like a light switch had been flipped, as Lena knew it would. It was a scene played out often in their youths, but her inner child cringed nevertheless. 

“You think this is going to be enough to break me? You pathetic whore. You’re nothing. Worthless. Just like the slut mother who brought you into this world. No one will listen to a word you say.”

Lena grinned. “No, they won’t. But I have multiple copies spread out across the country with some unbelievably respectable people.”

Lex ran a hand over his face, and when he took it away, he looked calm and collected again. Involuntarily, Lena shivered. “And what is it you’re asking to make this go away?”

“Nothing. But I wanted to give you the chance to gracefully withdraw.”

“Withdraw?” Lex dragged the word out, testing it on his tongue as though it were foreign. “Withdraw from what, pray tell?”

“From my life. From the your power grab. From National City would be nice but I’m flexible on that point.” Lena had barely finished before Lex was in front of her, his spit flecking her face as he screamed insults. To her regret, she winced, and she saw the light of joy it brought to his eye. It was hard to remember this man, this animal, as her brother. 

“You don’t tell me what to do, understand?” Lex hissed, simmering down slightly, no longer shouting and wild but nevertheless still evidently dangerous. “I’ll grind that shit hole of yours to dust with everyone in it, and you can damn well watch.” Lena sighed as though bored, and he grabbed her lapels, dragging her close enough to smell his sweat and expensive cologne. “I’ll start with that blonde reporter you’ve taken to bed with you, you damn dyke.” 

Lena’s eyes went wide, and Lex smirked cruelly, before throwing her with unexpected strength backwards. Lena stumbled, and felt Jo Davenport’s thick arms around her, putting her on her feet. Instantly, she went to move forwards, fists clenched at her sides. Jo’s grip on her waist tightened. “You stay the fuck away from-“

“I’ll do as I please.” Lex spat, looking for everyone like he had won. “Call it…mutually assured destruction. Now, get out of my sight.”

Lena opened her mouth to respond, but found herself being dragged bodily across the yard, Lex’s smiling face the last thing she saw before she was shoved into Jo’s Camero.

They drove in silence, Lena unwilling to give the other woman the benefit of a scene. The streets flicked by, a blur as Lena tried to control her emotions. Behind her eyes, the memory of a young boy with mussy hair teaching her to play chess was overridden by the image of a grown man with callous, cruel eyes screaming as he shook her. He wasn’t her brother anymore, she realised, and she owed him nothing.

“Pull over here. I’ll walk.” Lena said firmly.

Jo side eyed her. “Luthor, we’re miles away from the bar, just sit-“

“I said, pull over.” Lena repeated with annoyance. “There. By that drugstore. I want to get some cigarettes.”

Jo grumbled but did as asked, and no sooner was Lena on the sidewalk that the vehicle sped away, the driver glad to be rid of its problematic passenger. Lena entered the store, ignoring the gawking of the salesclerk and two lady shoppers who were hovering near the perfumes, watching her with confusion. Walking to the back, she stepped into the small payphone booth, and dialled a number she knew by heart. 

“Kara Danvers, Catco Media, how can I help?”

“Darling, its me.” Lena sighed into the phone, closing her eyes for a second. As she adjusted her tie, she felt the dampness of Lex’s spit that had settled as he hurled abuse at her not five minutes earlier. 

“Lee, are you ok?” Kara asked tenderly on the other end of the line. Lena remembered her brother’s words, recorded for posterity in the tape still whirring against her thigh, and her heart hardened.

“Kara,” she said, “publish it. Bring it all down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who is interested I've added a playlist on Spotify that features all the songs in this fic so far; its public and listed under "One Fine Day - Supercorp Fic".


	17. Chapter 17

Cat Grant sat at her comedically large desk, and stared at her former-secretary. Then she dragged her gaze to the photo in her hand, and back up to Kara, sweating in front of her.

“Well,” The older woman said, pointedly placing the image onto the green leather surface and steepling her fingers, “you have my attention.”

“There will be more to come.” Kara said quickly. “I have pages of notes from a meeting with the third man in that photo, Morgan Edge, witnessed by one of the city’s highest profile lawyers, and audio recordings implicating Lex Luthor in various illegal undertakings.”

“Interviews conducted by Ms Luthor, I presume?” Cat asked with a knowing look.

“It would be inappropriate to reveal my source, Ms Grant.” Kara answered, not breaking eye contact. There was a long pause, both women holding firm, before Cat nodded slowly, and rose from her desk, moving to gaze out of the window and over the street below.

“You understand the risk you will be bringing on not only yourself, but this publication if we lead with this story?” She put her hands on her hips. “Rest assured, Ms Danvers, both this newspaper and the wider business will weather that storm by whatever means necessary, but you’ll be facing the thunder alone. Do you understand that?”

Kara lifted her chin up, although her boss couldn’t see her. “I won’t be alone, Ms Grant, and I’m not asking for your protection. I’m well aware of the danger men like Lex Luthor and Ben Lockwood can bring someone, especially someone in a vulnerable position like myself. But I’m still here, and I’m still asking you to break this story, not for any kind of notoriety or personal gain, but because it’s the right thing to do.”

At the window, Cat spun around, a curious expression on her brow. “Oh, so this has nothing to do with Lex Luthor’s baby sister, or her bar which we published an article on less than a week ago?”

Kara shifted on her feet, frowning. “I-“

Cat rolled her eyes. “Don’t try and play me for a fool Kara. I didn’t come down with the last shower, and I appreciate honesty in my reporters, junior or otherwise.”

The reporter sighed, looking at her feet for a second before raising her head and fixing the Editor-in-Chief with a steely determination. “Ms Grant, both Lena Luthor and The Angel mean a great deal to me. We both know that. But the simple fact is, Lex Luthor is a terrible human being, and his influence on this city will have ramifications for us all. Mostly, for people like me, terrible ramifications. Ben Lockwood is Lex’s thuggish right hand, and Morgan Edge…well, he’s made a career on abusing the vulnerable amongst us for nothing more than profit. I’ve come to you with this story because I want to protect my friends, and my safe place, and myself, but I’m asking _you_ to publish it because it’s the right thing to do.”

Cat watched the speech with apparent disinterest, tapping her pen on the edge of the desk. When Kara finished, she shook her head. “Bleeding hearts – how am I surrounded by bleeding hearts?”

“Ms Grant, I-“

Cat waved a dismissive hand. “Get me the notes and the voice recording; I’ll print, but I’m putting my name on it. I don’t want you within a hundred miles of this story, do I make myself clear? I can’t break something like this and then be accused of holding a grudge.”

Kara nodded frantically. “I understand. Thank you Ms Grant, really.”

“Go, Kara.” Cat pointed at the door, her voice exasperated. “This is going out with the morning edition, I don’t have time to sit around patting each other’s backs.”

Kara nodded again, and scuttled out, the door slamming behind her. As the expensive silence once again settled over the office, Cat Grant exhaled, picking the photo up from her desk with manicured fingers. 

She’d lived a life full of ups-and-downs, and during that life, Cat knew she’d met many interesting and...exciting people. The husband whose passing led to her becoming Chief at the media empire he’d so loved had been no stranger to getting his hands dirty, nor had the husband before that who made a lot of money in the war by, to put it bluntly, hedging his bets. Cat was no stranger to people who made her nervous or disgusted. Lex Luthor, though – he was the first who had ever filled her with real fear.

_Unfortunately for me,_ Cat thought as she reached into her desk draw and extracted a decanter of very expensive whiskey and a crystal tumbler, _I know something about leadership that neither of my ex-husbands did._

“You never let your subordinate take a bullet for you.” Cat whispered, taking a long sip of amber liquid, and picking up her pen to begin writing.

\----------------------------------------------------- 

It was two nights later that the bullet came, and for all Catherine Grant’s machinations, it was aimed significantly lower than command.

When Nia opened her eyes, the first thought was that perhaps she hadn’t even opened them at all. The room was black, the usual glow from the street lights drowned out and an acrid, chemical smell making her nostrils itch. Next to her, in his sleep, Brainy coughed, a hacking sound that shook the last vestiges of sleep from Nia’s foggy mind.

“Fuck! Fuck! Honey, sweetheart, wake up!” She frantically sobbed, shaking the man next to her. He groaned in his sleep, opening his eyes halfway. “Get up, we’ve got to go.”

“Wha’?” Brainy asked, coughing again. 

“There’s a _fire_, we have to _go_, right now!” Nia dragged the stunned man bodily out of bed, choking on the smoke that hung thick around the ceiling. Not giving her lover time to catch up, she manhandled him with a strength she didn’t know she had into the living room of the flat above the Angel. The smoke here was worse, pouring from under the door to the stairs. It burned her eyes, and she fumbled on instinct to the master bedroom. The door was locked. “Wake up! Fire!” She wheezed, banging on the door with one fist, her other clinging tightly to the sleeve of Brainy’s pyjamas lest she loose him in the chaos.

“Let me.” The man cried, throwing himself at the door bodily as he became more alert and more aware of the danger. “Ouch!” He shrieked, rubbing his shoulder where he had rebounded. Setting his face with determination, he threw himself forwards again and found himself colliding with Lena as she wrenched the door open.

“What’s happening?” She asked groggily, putting Brainy on his feet. Then, in slow motion, her green eyes widened in the half light as she saw the fog gathering ever more over Nia’s shoulders. “Jesus Christ. Kara! Darling! Get up!”

By the time they made it to the front door, they were all gasping, their eyes burning. Stopping the party dead with a warning arm, Lena rested the back of her hand on the wood, and feeling it cool, scrabbled with the locks to pull it open. They stumbled downwards on hands and knees, trying to keep as low as possible where the air was fresher. At the bottom, Lena barged the back door open and all four stumbled out into the lot. 

“The bar.” Lena whispered, staring in horror at the smoke billowing out of the building. Without thought, she ran around to the street, hands on her head.

A crowd was already gathering. In the distance came the shriek of sirens that Lena could only pray were for The Angel. Falling to her knees, she screamed, all her anger and frustration rising at once. From somewhere to her right, she felt warm, soot-stained arms wrap around her, and she allowed herself to fall into Kara’s embrace as the tears poured forth.

It was two hours later that they were allowed back in the building, the watery light of a new dawn making the scene look cold and uncaring. The police had been and gone, barely even making a show of taking notes or hiding their disdain, and the mass of whispering, gossiping neighbours had finally ventured back to their beds. One of the fireman, a tall, heavy-set black man with kind, sympathetic eyes, had explained that the damage was mostly smoke damage – mostly aesthetic; someone had pushed wood, paper and rags through the letter box, chased it with gasoline, and lit a match. As Lena stepped inside, tired and still breathless from the smoke, the mess looked anything but aesthetic.

Every surface was covered in a thick layer of soot, and the air still tasted of burning. The door was a wreck, and the fire had chewed its way over the floorboards and up the bar, destroying the surface. It was just a miracle that it hadn’t reached the spirits that ran along the now-grimy mirrored shelves. 

“Oh, Lena.” Nia said sadly, her eyes welling with the tears that she’d somehow held in since the moment of waking. Lena looked at her, and placed what she hoped was a comforting hand on the woman’s thin shoulder. Nia’s chemise was soot-grey, and in the rush to escape one of the spaghetti straps had been torn. 

“Its ok.” Lena sighed. Next to her, Kara squeezed her hand and the butch managed a small smile. “Its going to be ok. We’ll just…start again.” 

“They can’t get away with this.” Brainy hissed, slapping his hand onto the bar where the veneer was crinkled and ruined. “This is despicable. They must press charges! Or…or…”

Lena sighed, pulling out a chair and slumping down with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her fists. “They aren’t going to press charges, Brainy. The people who did this will get away with it, we’ll pay the cost of setting this right, and one day, hopefully many years from now, we’ll all laugh about this.”

“I don’t think I’ll laugh about it.” Nia said in a small voice, sitting down at a neighbouring table.

“Me neither.” Kara agreed, from where she stood, stroking her lover’s back and shoulders. 

"I understand if its too much." Lena said in an uncharacteristically small voice. Kara squinted down at her lover; the woman looked small, and gaunt, and very, very tired. "I won't blame a single one of you if you want to relocate for a while. Longer than a while."

"What do you mean?" Nia frowned.

"Its getting dangerous. More so than usual." Lena said in the same soft voice. "I can't...I don't think I can protect you."

"We protect each other." Nia said firmly, patting Lena's knee as if to say she was being the silliest person in the world. "It'll be fine. Besides, where on earth do you think I'd go? You're my _family_." Behind her, Brainy opened his mouth to speak, and then, reading the room, shut it again.

From the busted front door, a small knock sounded. The group looked up with tired eyes.

At the entrance, one foot on the step, a man stood. Kara squinted, wishing she had her glasses; she thought she vaguely recognised him as the man who had ogled her from the doorway down the street, all those months ago. He was wearing work pants and a badly buttoned white shirt; he looked sheepish.

“Can I help you?” Lena asked with a sigh, dragging herself up. “I really am not in the mood for a fight today, so if that’s what you’ve come for-“

“Hey, hey, no.” The man said quickly, waving his hands. He had a thick New Jersey accent, and looked around thirty. “We, uh, that is myself and some of the other businesses on the street…we had a whip round.” The man held up an envelope in his hand.

“You…what?” Lena asked, confusion evident on her face as she tried to compute what had been said.

The man stepped into the room, his eyes looking first at the damage and then at the assembled foursome. “We had a collection. Its not much but it might help with some of the costs. I don’t know what your insurance is like.”

“Oh. That’s very kind of you, thank you.” Lena said, her shoulders drooping as some of the anticipation drained away.

“Don’t mention it.” The man leaned forwards, pressing the envelope into the butch’s hand. He turned to go, but paused at the door. “Look, I know you probably don’t believe it, but we’ve all agreed, this isn’t right. What they’ve been doing to you isn’t right.”

“Isn’t it?” Lena asked, rubbing her forehead to reveal a patch of white under the dirt.

The stranger shook his head. “No way. First the police and those bozos who keep coming up, giving you trouble. Now this. Its not right, harassing a small business owner like this. We’re all writing to the Chief of Police to demand answers, we ain’t gonna let this go without a fight.”

“Oh.” Lena said, trying for a smile. “Good.”

“Its fine. If they won’t protect your bar, well, who knows – my factory could be next, and then what?” With that, the man was gone.

“That was…unexpected.” Kara said after a moment.

“Well, it’s a start.” Lena sighed. “Who wants a drink?”

\---------------------------------------------------------------- 

“I’m just glad everyone is ok.” Sam said, cradling the receiver in her hand for the ancient Bakelite phone that sat proudly in her kitchen. “I knew there’d be some kind of comeuppance but I didn’t think it would be this violent.”

At the small table in the corner James sat, hands folded in from of him, trying to hear what was being said by the voice on the line.

“No, Lena, I know we talked about this. I just…” Sam sighed. “I know, I know. Its ok. Just until the heat dies down. No, that was a poor choice of words. Yes, ok. Just…Lena, please stay safe. Love you too.” She held the receiver to her ear a moment longer before rehanging it on the hook with a sigh.

“What’s the story?” James asked gently, looking at his lover with sympathy, already knowing the answer.

Sam turned, her eyes teary. “That’s it. I’m not going back.”

“Until the heat dies down?” James asked, brow furrowing. “Because the way you said that sounded like forever.”

Sam bit her lip. “The heat will never die down, James, don’t you understand? The bar is out in the public eye. Just because my face wasn’t in that article doesn’t mean I won’t be connected to it if I keep showing up every day.”

“Would that be so bad?” The man held up his hands, seeing annoyance flare in the bar tender’s face. “No judgement, just asking.”

“I can’t do that to Ruby. I can’t risk her safety.” Sam let her shoulders droop, rubbing a lithe hand across her tired eyes. “God, its just such a mess. I hate abandoning Lena and those women but I’m so scared. What if one of the bastards that set that fire followed me home? Or what if my picture ended up in the paper and everyone found out about my…preferences? How can I put my daughter through that?”

James watched as a single tear forced its way free of his girlfriend’s eye before pushing his chair back and holding out his arms. “Come in for a hug?”

With a damp chuckle, the woman sank into his embrace, settling herself on James’ lap and kissing his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

Startled, the couple both looked sharply towards the door. There, hands on hips and a murderous expression on her young face, stood Ruby.

“Sweetie, are you ok?” Sam smiled. The smile faltered on her face as the child stomped further into the room.

“How can you do this to auntie Lena?” Ruby demanded.

“Rubes, its complicated-“ James began.

“Nuh-uh.” Ruby pouted. “Don’t baby me. Tell me the truth.”

Sam sighed. “There are some not very nice men after your aunt, honey. Its not safe.”

“Because she’s a homosexual?” Ruby asked bluntly.

James’s mouth dropped open. “Where did you learn-“

“Read it.” The child responded smugly.

“You’ll watch your tone, young lady.” Sam scolded. “And yes, partly it is because of that.”

Ruby nodded slowly, rubbing imaginary whiskers on her chin thoughtfully. “Are you a homosexual?” She asked eventually.

Sam raised an eyebrow and gestured to where James was sat with a half-stunned expression on his face. “What do you think?”

Ruby shrugged. “But you like girls too, right?” 

“I…” Sam closed her eyes. “Yes, Ruby, I like girls too. I’m with James but I like both men and women. Romantically. Is that…is that ok?”

Ruby shrugged again, nonchalantly. “I already guessed. So, are you going to go back to the bar now and help auntie Lena?”

“No, Rubes, it still isn’t safe. What’s your obsession with this?” Sam hissed.

“Because you’re different, and sometimes when you’re different you need to be brave.” Ruby answered simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Its easier to be brave when you’re with your friends.”

Sam laughed. “My daughter, the wise woman.” She quipped, leaning forwards to give the little girl a wet kiss on the cheek. Ruby squirmed to get away, whining her disapproval. “I’ll think about it. Ok? I’ll think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fam, we are skidding rapidly towards a conclusion to this story! I'm so grateful for everyone who is sticking with me on this, I can't even explain how much I appreciate you.


	18. Chapter 18

“Jesus, Davenport, hold it _straight_.” Livewire hissed, wobbling with the coping that she was wrangling into place around the scorch-damaged bar. At the other end of the length of varnished wood, Jo Davenport, sleeves rolled up, growled a string of expletives.

“Now now children, play nice.” Lucy quipped from where she sat in the beam of sunlight streaming through the open door. In front of her on the brand new table lay several sheets of paper awaiting Lena’s signature.

“Yes m’am.” Jo smiled flirtily, a light blush reaching her usually ruddy cheeks. Jo had turned up a few days earlier, seemingly unemployed and at a loss, and had developed an instant attachment to the high class lawyer that Lena had somehow maintained on her payroll. Lucy rolled her eyes.

“Lena, can you please sign these statements so I can get back to the office?” The feminine woman sighed, taking a delicate drag on her thin cigarette, the ebony of the holder contrasting starkly with the white calf-skin of her gloves.

Lena raised an eyebrow from her place by the door. The burnt one was unhinged and ready to be disposed of, and the new one – thicker, heavier – was leaning against the inside wall. For 20 minutes, Brainy had been staring at it, his fingers steepled and pressed against his lips in deep concentration. _Ensuring the dimensions_, he’d insisted. _Time wasting_, James had huffed before putting the door down. “Yes of course, I think Brainy has some time to go yet before he’s ready to actually get his hands dirty.” 

“He’s very clever.” Nia called defensively, head popping over the bar. 

Lena chuckled and waved her hand. “No offence meant, Bonnie.”

Nia grinned, blew a kiss at where her boyfriend was sat cross legged on the floor, and disappeared once more from sight.

“Any word from Lex?” The butch asked in a quiet voice as she leant over to sign the witness statements. It had been a fortnight since the fire, and the community had formed an unexpectedly tight bubble around The Angel; their regular patrons had offered help to clear out the fire damaged furniture and run raffles and rent parties to raise funds for new ones, and their neighbours had created enough of a stir that a couple of policemen in their crisp blue uniforms had spent a morning poking around the bar, asking for witness statements and half-heartedly taking fingerprints. The real fuss though had been generated when the Post printed its expose on Lex Luthor’s mob and nationalist connections. Court summons had arrived on Lucy’s desk within 24 hours of the article hitting the news stands, and Lena’s picture had appeared in several of the gutter tabloids. Lex had disappeared that same night, abandoning his campaign and faithful followers without a second glance, and going to ground like the snake he was. 

“Not a peep.” Lucy responded softly, her eyes briefly flitting to where Kara was laughing with Sam. “Are you concerned he might try something?”

Lena shrugged, pretending to read a paragraph so as not to alert her lover of the tension that had fallen between her and her lawyer. “I hope not, but I’m a Luthor. We like to prepare for the worst.”

“I wouldn’t worry. The FBI are on his tail, from what I can glean from the grapevine.” Lucy stubbed her cigarette out and brushed a smudge of ash firmly from the tip of a gloved finger. “I heard mention of Argentina along with his little lap dog Lockwood. If they set a toe in National City, they’ll be arrested.”

Lena nodded thoughtfully. “And Morgan Edge?”

Lucy smiled. “Gotham, I believe. Although I shouldn’t know that, so I’d appreciate you keeping it to yourself.”

“Idiot.” Lena chuckled.

“Well, not that this hasn’t been fun,” the lawyer said, rising to her feet and sliding the papers into her satchel, “but I’m going to run before you have me scrubbing any floors.”

Lena guffawed, finally drawing attention from the people around her. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Ms Lane. You’re the brains and I’m the brawn in this partnership, right?”

“How well it works, too.” Lucy smirked, before turning on her heels and carefully picking her way passed where James was bickering with Brainy over a spirit level. Lena pinched the bridge of her nose; as she went to help, she caught Kara’s eye and was gratified to receive a small wink in return. In her chest, she felt a familiar skip, and filed the wink away to be brought out later and examined like the gem it was.

\-------------------------------  
“It’s a relief to have it finished.” Sam said, placing a tumbler of whiskey on the side table next to the worn green armchair where Lena was slumped, eyes closed and shirt off, her undershirt stained with sweat from working in the bar. “We should be ready to reopen on Saturday.”

“I won’t count my chickens.” Lena said darkly, opening her eyes a crack. “There’s two days to go til then.”

Sam sat down on the stool opposite and tilted her head. “Lena, I know what’s going through your head but you need to listen to me. Its over. Lex is gone, Lockwood has vanished, and Morgan Edge is soon to be spending an indefinite amount of time behind bars. We won.”

“Did we?” Lena asked with a pointed stare.

Sam swallowed, throat thick with unshed tears as she looked down at the amber liquid in her own glass. “I’m sorry I ducked out on you for a while there.”

Lena sighed. “You don’t have to be. I understand.” Leaning forwards to place a work-worn hand on her friend’s knee, she tried to convey her sincerity with the weight of her gaze. “Really. Ruby comes first.”

“Thank you.” Sam wiped her nose on the back of her hand, bangles jangling.

“What changed, anyway?” Lena sat back in her chair and spread her legs wider, shifting in her seat. Her muscles were sore from days of hard labour.

Sam smiled, eyes still glassy. “Ruby.”

“Ruby changed?” Lena asked curiously, a half-smirk on her lips.

“Ruby gave her mother a good talking to, about why people like us need to stick together.”

“Smart girl, I’ve always said it.” Lena laughed, sipping her whisky.

“Takes after her aunt.” Sam quipped, draining her glass as the apartment door opened and Kara walked in with James on her heels. They both looked dog tired but unmistakably content. On James’s cheek, a streak of yellow paint had smudged and dried. “Speaking of the kid, we’d better get off before she drives Mrs Dawson completely crazy.”

“Thank you for all you’ve done.” Lena smiled warmly at her best friend and the man she loved. “Both of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Stronger together.” Sam gave the butch’s hand a squeeze, and with a warm smile at Kara dragged the sleepy bouncer from the room and down the stairs.

Without preamble, Kara moved across the room and slid onto her lover’s lap. Lena nuzzled into her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of the blonde’s skin and floral perfume, feeling the last vestiges of tension ease away. “I missed you.”

“I was only downstairs for a moment.” Kara teased; then she pressed a kiss to the brunette’s jaw, and whispered, “I missed you too.”

The kisses that came after were soft and sweet, a mixture of fatigue and comfort making them languid and deep. When they broke apart, halfway to breathless, Kara snuggled in closer, taking Lena’s hand in hers so that she could play with the fingers. Between her eyebrows, a tell-tale crinkle appeared.

“What is it?” Lena asked with a knowing smile.

Kara huffed. “Damn crinkle.”

“Damn crinkle.” Lena agreed. “Talk.”

Dragging her gaze from their joined hands, Kara stared into green eyes with an intensity that surprised the woman in her embrace. “I love you.”

Lena blinked, a surprised, pleased smile spreading over her face. “I love you too. Why the seriousness?”

Kara shrugged. “I haven’t been able to tell you since we…since I gave myself to you. Since we became official.”

“Haven’t you?” Lena furrowed her brow, remembering the weeks since that night and shocked to think at how much had happened since then. “I suppose there was a lot going on, my darling.”

“I’ll just have to tell you twice as often then, now it’s all over.”

Lena’s eyes darkened. “Sweetheart, we can’t say it’s over yet. Lex could come back, or whichever hound fills Morgan Edge’s shoes could be worse. And then there’s the matter of the bar, now we’re known. I’m not trying to worry you, but you need to understand the reality of the-”

“Lee,” Kara interrupted with an eye roll, “I understand the problems that might be around the corner. I know our life together won’t be easy. But for now,” She dipped a kiss to Lena’s lips. “its over. You’ve won.”

“Have I?” Lena bit her lip, wondering if Sam had been having words in her girlfriend’s ear.

“Mmmhmm.” Kara said with a twinkle in her eye. “You’ve won the war, and the girl.”

“Have I?” Lena repeated, feeling herself heat up, part pride and part arousal washing through her system unbidden.

“Come and dance with me and find out?” Kara murmured, pulling the bar owner to her feet, and stepping away to put on a record. The vinyl scratched and hissed, static crackling from the speakers, and then the melody sprung to life.

_One fine day, you’ll look at me, and you’ll know our love was meant to be…_

Lena barked out a laugh. “It’s not quite the slow dance I was expecting.”

Kara turned with a cheeky grin, hands in the air. “We’ve taken things slow enough. Come on Luthor, show me how to cut a rug.”

“Oh, I’ll show you all right.” Lena cackled, leaping forwards to lift the woman into her arms. The blonde shrieked as her stockinged feet left the floor, and for the first time in her life, Lena truly knew the meaning of winning.

_One fine day, you’re gonna want me for your girl…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that the end of our story, my friends; the last chapter is an epilogue so feel free to stick around for that if thats your thing. Thanks to everyone who has been reading, leaving kudos and commenting; you all make my days.


	19. Epilogue

The hallway was busy with people rushing to and fro, most looking stressed as they held onto their letters and licenses. Ruby had parked Lena’s chair a little to one side, and Lena found watching them almost calmed her nerves. Almost.

“I am so sorry we’re late, someone couldn’t pick a tie.” The old woman looked up from her seat, wrinkled hands wrapped around the amber topped cane that she was swaying backwards and forwards to the sound of the footsteps on the faux-marble that echoed around the historic walls of City Hall. She smiled warmly.

“Nia Nal, I haven’t know you two to be on time to anything in fifty years, I expected nothing less.”

Nia grinned impishly; her hair was white and the creases of laughter lines were visible even under her makeup, but the woman had retained the all sweetness of her youth and it was hard to believe she was over 75. Next to her a thin, wizened man ambled up, slightly out of breath from the stairs. “In my defence, Lena, you didn’t specify what _shade of red_ the tie should be. I chose burgundy. Is this sufficient?”

“You look lovely, Brainy.” Ruby interrupted before her aunt could get a quip in.

“As do you, Ms Arias.” Brainy bowed slightly; in unison, Lena and Nia rolled their eyes. 

“Is Kara in there already?” Nia gestured towards the ornate double doors, behind which the ceremony would take place.

Lena shrugged, stoking a crease out of her navy blue suit pants. “They have her come in a different door. Alex and Maggie are probably trying to talk her our of it as we speak.”

Nia barked out a laugh, and nearby a young woman with owlish blue eyes tutted. “After 57 years, I think they’ve missed their chance. Maybe you could elope?”

Lena grinned, reaching out to squeeze her old friend’s hand. If she closed her eyes, she could still picture the 18 year old who had passed out drunk in her toilet stall all those years ago; the fragile, scared, brave little thing. She supposed, if Nia did the same, she’d picture the strapping, rash, desperate butch with her over priced suits and swagger that Lena knew she’d been then – all hard edges and second guesses. They’d grown old together, working in the bar until finally the late nights and the bar fights had caught up with them, and they’d handed the keys to a young woman from Colombia who still reserved them a booth every Friday night and played Patsy Cline whenever they asked. It had been strange, watching how things changed. Society moved at once treacle slow and lightening fast, and as years turned into decades and it became less and less common for people to hide, the nature of the bar had changed from a place of refuge to something all together less crucial. It made Lena glad, and a little sorrowful, all at once. “You best get in there and make sure she doesn’t make a run for it.”

Nia bent, pressed a kiss to her old boss’s cheek, rubbed away the lipstick mark, and then pulled Brainy into the grandly named Ceremony Room. 

“Do you know who I saw earlier?” Lena asked after a moment of silence. Ruby squatted down, her thick hair done up in an old fashioned beehive, until she was eye to eye with the octogenarian.

“Who, auntie?” 

“Sara Lance.” Lena chuckled. “Woman disappears off into Europe and Asia and god knows where for forty years or more, but she comes slinking back for my wedding. She never could resist the chance to get dressed up and make a scene.”

“Was that who dad was talking to?” Ruby raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t recognise her a bit.”

“Are the kids with James?” 

Ruby shook her head. “They’re with Lucille. I’m sure Steven and Archie have got them into all sorts of trouble now.” Lena nodded. Archie was Sam and James’ boy, who had developed all his father’s good looks and none of his mother’s sense. Lena remembered spending more of the 70s than she cared to getting him out of scrapes, but he was a good brother to Ruby and a good uncle to his niece Lucille and her four wild little boys. Lena allowed a small frown thinking about Steven, the man Ruby had chosen to spend her life with and who Lena considered a terrible bore. He made Ruby happy though, so that was something. “Aunt Lena?”

“Mmm?” Lena asked gently, seeing a flash of sorrow pass her god daughter’s face.

“Mom would have been so proud of you and auntie Kara, you know? She would have loved nothing more than to be here and see you get married.”

Lena nodded, a tear welling up in her eye unexpectedly. It had been 17 years since the indomitable woman she’d been lucky enough to call her best friend had passed away in her sleep suddenly, but Lena still missed her every day. She spent many nights afterwards with James and, when she could get a babysitter, Ruby, telling the same funny, heartfelt stories of the woman they’d all loved, and more times than she could remember, she found herself talking aloud to a ghost who had been more like a sister than a mere friend. “I know sweetheart, but you know what, she left me with you to look after me and to walk me down the aisle, and I’ll forever be thankful to her for it.”

Ruby nodded, sniffing slightly, and Lena gave her handkerchief which was accepted with a wan chuckle. “Oh, look at us. You know what she’d be saying if she saw us?”

Lena smirked. “Something like ‘_pull yourself together, you old baggage, this is the happiest day of your life_’. No idea what she’d say to you, probably something really sympathetic. She always did choose favourites.” Shutting her eyes for a second, Lena could almost hear the words spoken in her friend’s voice; could smell the spice of her perfume, and see the sarcastic tilt of her head. 

“Ms Luthor?” The registrar asked, poking her head round the door. “We’re ready for you now.”

“Ok, we’ll be in momentarily.” Lena said with a firm nod. From behind the door, the familiar strains of a long forgotten song started playing; _my love must be a kind of blind love…_

“You need a hand?” Ruby asked, rising from her knees and brushing the dust from her grey pant suit. She was in her mid-fifties, and Lena briefly wondered when the little girl with the missing teeth and cheeky grin had turned into a grandmother. 

“I’m fine, just hold the chair for me please.” Lena took a deep breath, shuffling to the edge of the wheelchair, and hauling herself up. She struggled to walk most days now, her old joints weakened by years of heavy work and the odd beatings of her youth, but she’d promised herself that she would walk down the aisle to meet Kara, and she would hold firm to that. _Kara_, she smiled. The love of Lena’s life had blossomed through the years, going from secretary to reporter to finally editor at the newspaper she loved, her dedication and integrity singling her out regardless of who she went home to at the end of the day. Their lives had been, as predicated, complicated, occasionally difficult, but above all happy, and Lena thanked god that she’d been able to spend most of her adult life with her. Through thick and thin, ups and downs, and the many sickening schemes of the banished Lex Luthor, Kara had been her rock, and she hers. They were a team, strong and solid. The sex had been pretty amazing too, Lena thought cheekily.

“Ready to go become Mrs Danvers-Luthor?” Ruby asked, slipping her arm into Lena’s and politely not mentioning how the older woman leaned on her a little heavily for support.

“Rubes,” the old butch said with a smile, “believe me when I tell you this: I’ve been ready for 57 years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who has stuck with me through this story. I love Lena and I have a huge soft spot for butch Lena so it means a lot.
> 
> Stay safe, be kind to yourselves and each other, and love yourselves for who you are. G'night.


End file.
